


Orphic

by Piper1016



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Halloween, Psychic, Supernatural - Freeform, Tarot, tarot reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:29:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 67,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piper1016/pseuds/Piper1016
Summary: Just a fun short Bethyl AU for Halloween. - That has now turned into a full blown Fic.





	1. Orphic

**~~A short Halloween story.~~ ~~Probably could be a one shot, but I'm going to separate it into a few chapters~~.  This has now turned into a full length story. Thanks for reading!  :) **

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  _ **Orphic** : (adj) mysterious and entrancing. Beyond ordinary understanding. _

 

The air was definitely turning towards fall, even by Georgia's standards. There was the unmistakable crisp in the air; the leaves were turning, changing from their dull drought induced lackluster green to a more vivid orangey red. Most of the leaves having fallen from their branches already, though it was only mid-October.

Now that it was well past dark, the wind had turned cooler and winter's fingers dragged along Daryl's loose collar. He pulled his leather cut closed, wishing the zipper wasn't broken. Thinking of bailing, he wondered why he let his brother and his cronie drag him out the county fair of all places anyway. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, hoping the movement and tobacco may warm him a bit.

"Come on, man. This is lame." Daryl said to Merle after he had lit his smoke, took a couple puffs. Merle was taking his second try at knocking the stacked bottles down with the toss of a softball. Seemed easy enough, but when you were lit, like Merle was, it proved to be tricky.

"Why you bein' such a drag?" Merle asked after hefting the ball a little too hard and practically knocking down the backdrop of the booth. Daryl spared the man standing behind the counter and lifted his shoulders, as if to say _what can I do_? Because what _could_ he do? He wasn't his brothers keeper. Was he? And Merle was a force all his own.

"Aw chill out. You got somethin' better ta do?" This from Shane. A younger, prettier, new friend of Merle's. He wasn't sure how or why Shane and Merle began hanging out, but Daryl was less than enthused with his presence. He only snarled at him, sending Shane a step or two back and away.

Merle, having finally given up on the baseball, stepped from the booth and followed Daryl down the row of similar booths with silly little games, hocking trinkets that Daryl couldn't figure out why anyone would want or need them.

"Yeah, Daryl. Chill out." Merle repeated Shane, lightly punching his brother in the stomach.

Daryl rolled his eyes and pushed his fist away, "Whatever." He was quickly second guessing his choice to stay (remotely) sober.

"Oh hot damn! 'Memeber this game, Merle? I was a crack shot when I was little," Shane enthused.

"Hell yeah! And I bet I can whoop your ass at it too." Merle told Shane as they stumbled up to the booth where Shoot the Star was set up.

Ignoring Shane and Merle's stroll down memory lane, he made his way further down the aisle. The gravel pathway crunched under his boots and music blared from a nearby Tilt-A-Whirl. Screams of joy sounding from the ride. The mix of cotton candy and roasted pecans wafted through the air. Another scent caught his attention, one that didn't belong at the county fair. It was a deep pungent sagey smell. It's earthy scent reminded him of being out in the woods this time of year. So naturally, he followed it, figuring it'd be better than watching the Bobbsey twins over there playing with pretend guns, gerring each other whenever the other missed.

A few booths down there stood a teepee of sorts rather than a ramshackle folding table with a sheet backing. Its top point reached about nine feet up and was probably just as wide. Black and sparkly fabric surrounded the entrance and Daryl wondered what cheesy game resided inside. Peeking his head into the opening, to the right, atop a plaster column made up to look old and not plastic, sat a silver platter of lit candles of assorted colors. In the center of the candles was the fanciest ashtray he'd ever seen. It held a bundle of what looked to be, to Daryl anyhow, weeds lit at the end sending off the sage scent he had followed in. And there in the middle of the tent was, indeed, a folding table only this one was covered with some sort of velvety black material.

Vaguely all this registered in the back of his mind, though. His eyes went straight to the woman, or was it a girl, sitting on the other side of the table. She was small and slight and held a set of playing cards in her left hand, her nails filed to a point and painted purple. She wore numerous rings and large hoops hung from her ears. The bandana she wore matched the sparkly purple shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Long wavy blonde hair fell from underneath the bandana. Looking up, her piercing aqua eyes caught him off guard. She wasn't a girl. No. Those were the eyes of a woman.

She regarded him thoughtfully before speaking. And when she did, her melodic voice seemed to float on the hazy smoke. Then she smiled and it felt as though someone punched him in the gut. It wasn't a necessarily unpleasant feeling, still it made him uncomfortable.

"Hello there. Come in. Have a seat," she encouraged, gesturing to one of the two folding chairs on his side of the table. He had no idea why he did so, but he found himself doing exactly what she suggested, lowering into the chair across from her. He realized then that it wasn't playing cards she held. The two upturned cards on the table held strange pictures of the sun and moon and a tower with flames coming out the top.

She picked up those two cards and with those long fingered hands, shuffled them loosely into the well worn deck. Her hands were delicate, long. Daryl saw a flash in his mind's eye of those fingers lightly dragging down his ribcage, causing very real goosebumps to break out over his flesh.

He ran his hands over his bare forearms, blaming the chill of the night air for the goosebumps. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair and cleared his throat. By then, the woman had fanned the cards out onto the cloth on the table.

"Pick three," she said simply in that sing song voice of hers. And though it was seemingly impossible, her voice echoed around in the teepee before making it reverberated in his ears. The sounds of the fair outside subsided to unnoticed background noise. It was just him and her. And her voice, her hands, her eyes.

He did as she instructed and picked three cards. Without much thought he chose one card on the right of the fanned out stack, one from the middle and one on the left, flipping them right side up in front of himself.

The woman hardly spared them a glance, instead looking so intently into his eyes he became uncomfortable and looked away. Examining anything other than those magnetic blue eyes of hers.

"These represent your past, present and future," she explained, gesturing with an open hand to the first, second and third card.

"Uh huh."

 _S_ _ure, whatever lady_.

Daryl felt his shoulders tense. If he believed in this sort of thing, which of course he did not - _no freakin' way_ , he didn't want to know what his past, present or what his future held. He lived for the day. Never giving much thought to his past or his present. Oddly enough though he wanted, felt compelled, to know more. Or, he just wanted to hear more of that voice that did strange things to his mind and body that he couldn't explain.

So, he motioned with the uptick of his chin for her to continue.

"This card," she said pointing to the very first one he pulled out, "is called the Three of Swords."

He could've guessed that much. The card, faded and tattered at the edges, depicted three swords stuck into a bright red heart.

"It represents your past. The clouds and rain can mean violence or a bad time in someone's life."

Daryl outwardly scoffed, though he didn't mean to. "When ain't someone had a bad time in their life?" He asked skeptically. He knew he had more than his fair share of bad, but still, who didn't have a hard time once in awhile?

She went on without dignifying his skepticism with a response. "The heart is symbolic of beauty, while the swords signify harm to the body." She peered at him again. He had the unmistakable feeling that she was reading him down to his very core. "Has anyone ever hurt you?" She asked, her voice quietly compassionate.

The sagey air was beginning to thicken around him. He opened his mouth intending to reply with some sort of smartass responce. Words bounced around in his mind, refused to come out.

"Did someone hurt you?" She waited, one beat, two beats, three. "Daryl?"

Fear, something he did not feel very often since he became an adult, slithered down his spine and he stood abruptly. The backs of his legs tipping the chair. With his cat like reflexes, he reached behind him and caught it before it clattered the ground. The noise of the fair came slamming back at him.

"There you are!"

Daryl jumped again as his brothers hand clasped around his shoulder.

"The hell you doin'?" Merle questioned.

"Uhh," he looked to Merle who was lighting a cigarette, oblivious to what had just gone down, to which Daryl was thankful. He brought his eyes back to the woman. She held that intent stare still, the corners of her lips were pulled in the slightest smile. So slight the average person would probably miss it. Not Daryl, though. He was a hunter, a tracker. He had trained himself to see things, to notice things. And that tiny little grin did not get past him.

"Let's go." This from Shane further off outside the tent.

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out a wadded up ten dollar bill and stuffed it down into a clear vase sitting on the edge of the folding table that held other assorted bills. Before he turned to go, she said his name again in that eerie way that sent his spine quivering once more.

"Daryl?"

He looked at her expectantly, backing away slowly.

"Here. Take my card," she said, holding out a white business card sized piece of cardstock.

He said nothing, taking the card from her. It could've been an accident, though his gut told him it was not, she ran her index finger along the back of his hand as she handed over the card. Nothing short of lightning bolted through his hand, up his arm and straight through his chest to his heart. The zap didn't hurt per say, it just jolted enough to remind him he was alive.

Daryl turned on his heel and left the tent and the sage scent behind him, following his brother and Shane. He wasn't scared. No way. But he knew one thing for damn certain, he never once told her his name.


	2. Sillage

_**Thank's everyone for reading and commenting and the support in my new (mini) fic. :) Next chapter is a bit better, so hang in there.** _

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 _**Sillage** _ _: (n) the scent that lingers in the air._

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This was when Beth felt her best. When she was the most at one with the universe than any other moment of her life. The wind lightly blowing at her back. With her hands in the earth, feeling the damp coolness of the dirt. The temporary grit under her nails. Taking a second she sat back on the backs of her legs, turning her face up to the sun allowing it to warm her skin. Then reaching into the mesh bag, she retrieved another flower bulb and dropped it down into the hole she'd just dug. The bulbs should've been in the ground a few weeks before, but _they_  told her it would be alright if they went into the ground now. They'd become beautiful blooms in spring - just a little later than they were supposed to.

The air held promise of a good long winter, Beth's favorite time of the year. Though Georgia didn't have much of a winter in comparison to the other states she had spent time in, she was looking forward to a slower time of year and spending days at a time held up in her house enjoying hot chocolate with lots of marshmellows, a fire smoldering in the fireplace. The scent of wood smoke almost hung in the air already. 

She peered up at her home. The sun creating an aura around the sloped roof of the single story house, making the faded and peeling siding seem less in need of repair. Here she felt more at home than she had in any of the other places she resided over the years. She felt a peace cover her here. Situated out of town a ways, surrounded by farmland and rolling hills. Alone, just as she prefered to be. Living inside the city limits just didn't work for her. Too much commotion. Too many voices. Too many people vying for her mental space. She loved and cared for people, especially helping those who needed it, but could only take so much before she had to retreat into herself again. This home with its porch that covered the north and east sides, and the swing that hung from the overhang with rusted chains that creaked ever so lightly in the breeze. Yes, this was her home, her safe spot. 

After planting the last bulb and gently patting the dirt back into place, she rose. Dusting her hands off on her thighs.

"What do you think, Max?" She asked the black cat that lay on the ground at her feet, looking up at her with half closed uninterested lime green eyes. "I think they'll be pink mostly. Maybe a few reds." She spoke of the color of the flowers.

Bending at the waist, she picked Max up into her arms, nuzzling the softness of her fur. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Carrying the cat, she turned toward the back entrance of the house, but movement in her peripheral vision brought her up short. There, on the edge of the corn field, now yellowed and dried, a buck with golden brown fur was silhouetted in the lowering sun. His back rigid and straight, proud of who he was. He snorted and stomped a hoof at her. It's antlers stood tall and sharp, spanning a good seven inches in between the browtines. His black shiney eyes watched her intentily.

"Hey there, big guy," Beth whispered to the deer. He stomped his foot one last time before turning its whitetail and pouncing off back down the field and into the cover of the woods.

Beth smiled smally and made her way back to the house where a hot shower awaited her. She would have company before the darkness of night fully covered the sky.

. . .

Daryl did his best to stay focused on whatever it was his brother was bitching about now, but his mind wandered. In the last week and half he tried hard not to think about the fortune teller woman with the blonde hair and purple nails and the pure blue eyes that seemed to see straight through to his hallowed out soul. He lived life like normal, never breathing a word of what had happened in the tent that night at the carnival to anyone.

He went to work, came home, hung out with Merle. More times than not hanging out with Merle consisted of watching him get drunk. But that was normal. His life was normal. Nothing was out of place. Except his mind wouldn't leave that woman.

It unexplicidly angered him, the way she lingered in his thoughts. Never more than a thought or two away. The way she stared so intently, as though reading his thoughts. The way the mere touch of her finger on the back of his hand sent a volt of lightning throughout his body. The way the scent of sage occasionally drifted throughout his house from no explainable source.

And what bothered him the most - just how the hell did she know his name? Sure, they lived in a smallish town. Though he was certain he'd never seen her before a day in his life, that didn't mean she didn't know him somehow. Something told him that she didn't know him before he set foot in that tent of hers.

Being a reasonable man, he came to his own conclusions based on hard solid facts. Proof and science. If he couldn't see it, then it didn't exists. He didn't believe in this sort of mumbo jumbo bullshit. He figured there was only one thing to do to get the answers he needed so this woman would leave his mind be. He'd go pay her a little visit, demand she tell him how she knew his name. He was sure an easy explanation would ensue. And then he'd be able to put this whole thing behind him. It was the only logical thing to do.

If by logical you meant insane, of course.

Leaving Merle spread out on the sofa half passed out even though it was early evening, he left the living room retreating further into the house he and Merle shared. At thirty five he didn't think he'd still be living in the house he grew up in with his borderline alcoholic big brother, yet here he was. Not that he saw himself elsewhere. This was his destined fate he supposed.

In the bathroom, he quietly closed the door. He'd been ignoring the fact that the business card she gave him was there in his pants pocket all week. Refusing to even go near enough to the pile of dirty clothes the jeans sat in, just so he didn't have face the fact that the card existed at all. Now, digging around in the pile of clothes that littered the bathroom floor, he found the pair of jeans he had worn to the fair that night. Fishing in the back pocket with two fingers, he procured the business card.

Knowing it was only his mind playing tricks on him, the card seemed to vibrate in his hand as he read the embossed black letters of the woman's name. It read Beth Greene, Intuitive/Psychic Medium/Tarot Readings.

"Great. An all in one shop of quackery." Daryl intoned to himself, rolling his eyes. Unbelieving that he was actually going through with this.


	3. Chapter 3 - Brontide

**Thanks for reading!**

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_**Brontide** : (n.) The low rumble of distant thunder_

. . . 

 

Never being one to just sit around and wait, a quick search using his iPhone and Daryl was able to find an address to one Beth Greene. He knew the approximate location and choosing his pick up over his motorcycle as it looked like rain, he got behind the wheel and gunned the engine to life.

Fifteen minutes and two u-turns later, he rolled slowly down a tree lined dead end dirt road. He'd only passed a count of two other houses, and a mile down he was wondering if he had read the address wrong when he finally came to what was the last house on the lane. The white mailbox read in bright red letters the name Greene. Sitting idle, he took in the small cottage like home, and the small yet tidy yard surrounded by corn and wheat fields. He wasn't sure what to expect, but this wasn't it. The yard had a fall garden along the base of the porch with planted mums on each side of the steps. A mostly empty vegetable garden was situated along the far side of the yard. It all felt...well, cozy. Except he'd never used the word cozy in his life

Cloud cover had made the night prematurely arrive and big plops of rain had just begun to fall as he drove down the driveway. Pulling his Ma's Truck Stop hat down low on his head, he killed the engine and stepped out of the truck slamming the door loudly. Either she wasn't home or was hard of hearing if she didn't hear his approach. Stomping up the porch steps he wrapped his knuckles on the wood pane of the door. The glass inset held jeweled colored stained glass squares blurring the interior on the other side of the door. A far off rumble sounded in the distance, telling him the storm was about ten minutes to the north. That the worst of it just might miss them.

He waited a second and rose his hand to knock once more when he heard shuffling and a shadow appeared on the other side of the stained glass. The sound of a deadbolt lock disengaged before the door opened inward and there she stood. Beth Greene. Staring at him with those same intense eyes making him feel as uncomfortable as the first time they'd met.

Saying nothing, she stared at him expectantly. If she was surprised by a strange man showing up out of the blue on her doorstep, she didn't show it. Tucking his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't fidget as he ached to do, he looked down at his feet then back up again out of the tops of his eyes.

_Why they hell wasn't she sayin' anything? But, then again, why wasn't he._

Time dragged on for what felt like hours and she only stood there, looking at him, her right eyebrow slightly raised. His gaze drifted downward. Her nails were no longer purple or sharpened to a point, currently they were short and unpainted. She wore only one ring, a plain silver band, on the pointer finger of her left hand. Silver hoops still hung at her ears.

On this day she wore faded skinny blue jeans that hugged her skinny frame and a deep purple cable knit sweater that somehow managed to magnify the intensity and color of her eyes. Her long blonde hair was tied back at the base of her neck. Long bangs swooped off to the right. A single crystal hung around her neck secured by a thin silver chain.

She looked...normal. Damn fine, but normal - as in not a witch.

The large raindrops began to magnify in number and he was glad to be safe under the overhang of the porch. "Uh, I dunno if ya' remember me, but," he stated woodenly. His face began to heat and he wondered if he was blushing for the first time in his whole damn life.

Finally she spoke, her voice akin to that of a hot shower after a long day's work. "I remember you."

He nodded. And just when he was going to make more of a fool of himself by speaking again, she threw him a line and opened the door further to allow him admittance into her home.

"Come in."

And he did. The door opened to the living room but the view allowed him to see straight through the doorway at the other end leading to the next room. Judging by the tile flooring, it was probably the kitchen and then another door leading out the back of the house. The wood flooring of the living room was worn and faded. Clean. A soft looking black sofa sat along the wall, two floor to ceiling windows sat on either side. A tile topped coffee table with iron legs, looking to weigh about a thousand pounds was situated in front of the sofa. In the corner was a fire place, a stack of wood was piled next to it in a large basket, ready and waiting for the fall's first fire.

Daryl couldn't help but notice there was no television. Two bookshelves packed full of all different size and colored books. A basket next to the couch was filled with yarn, two knitting needles stuck out of one of the balls of yarn. Daryl had no idea what to expect but it wasn't this. This normalness. Except for no television. That was a little strange to him.

"Ya' normally let strange men you don't know into your house?" He questioned briskly. He didn't think she was that stupid, yet for some reason, God knew why, it worried him that she willingly allowed him into her home on a cold fall night. Psychic or not.

Ignoring his question, she questioned him in return. "Come back for the rest of your reading?"

Or, at least Daryl thought it was a question. And why was he there? Now, suddenly, he forgot what he had come here for. So, he rolled his shoulders in response and wandered to the window, looking out over the darkening yard as the rain began to form puddles in the driveway.

"How'd ya' know I wasn't dangerous. A homicidal murderer?"

"I don't," she answered honestly.

That surprised him. Her honesty, not that she didn't know. She had a spark to her. He faced her again, a sassy smile played on her lips, lighting up her beautiful face. It gave him that uncomfortable feeling once more. In spite of himself he smirked in return. Just as quickly he wiped it from his face.

"So, do you want to know?"

"Know what?"

She simply lifted that eyebrow in response.

"I just wanna' know how you knew my name," he finally admitted on a huff of exhaled breath.

"Wanna' sit?" She asked, gesturing to the sofa.

"What the hell?" He asked more of himself than her and plopped down on the couch. It was as soft and comfortable as it had appeared. He relaxed marginally.

"Listen, lady...Beth." he said, trying out her name. It rolled off his tongue with a bit more ease than he was comfortable with. "Just be straight with me."

Beth sat on the opposite edge of the coffee table, facing him, probably figuring it was safer than sitting the next cushion over on the couch.

Without warning seemingly out of nowhere, a cat jumped up on the armrest, making Daryl jump a foot off the cushion. "Son of a'...!" he exclaimed.

The cat eyed him suspiciously before settling down and bathing her leg with long strokes of her tongue. Looking back to Beth, she wore that bright smile again, a musical chuckle escaped her throat. He chuckled in return at his own over reenactment. He may of been the stranger in her house, but he was the one who was apparently spooked.

After a moment, they returned to their own awkward silences before Beth spoke again. "Three of Swords," she said of the first card he had drawn at the fair. "The heart represents beauty. Life. The swords means pain, or danger. Or maybe someone hurt you," she suggested and paused. Maybe waiting for him to speak next. Which, of course, he did not.

She didn't push. "The second card you chose representing your present was The Moon. It means longing. Cutting to the chase, she asked, "What do you long for Daryl?"

Her eyes seemed to glow, her eyebrow arched again, she sat forward, resting her firsts under her chin. Ready to listen. Daryl had the distinct feeling she was reading his mind again.

The way she stared at him, the way her low ponytail fell over her shoulder. The way her shirt fell slightly forward and the crystal on the chain swayed back and forth. The muscles in his gut tightened, and that wasn't the only thing becoming uncomfortably tight. And he was spooked again. This time he stood, the cat sending him a glare and a hiss. He held up his hands as he retreated towards the door.

"Listen, I jus' wanted to know how you knew my name. Didn't want my fortune read. It's all bullshit anyway."

There was a slight dulling in her eyes, quick as a flash it was there and gone again and he knew he'd hurt her. Regret came hard and sharp. And why? Why did he care if he hurt some quack he didn't even know?

She stood from the table and crossed her arms over her breasts, "I think you should leave now." She wasn't scared of his presence, she was pissed. His respect for her grew marginally.

"Okay, yeah. You're right. But tell me how," he said, his words almost pleading, which he _hated_.

"Why should I tell you a damn thing? You won't believe me anyway." Daryl was relieved to see that spark was back, even if it was focused in anger directed at him.

"I don't know what I believe." That was true enough. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't a' said what I said." He was sorry? This was news to him. What shocked him more is that he actually apologized. He couldn't remember the last time he told anyone he was sorry - if he ever had.

She looked down, then back up at him, taking slow steps towards him. Barefoot, she was almost a foot shorter than him in his worn out work boots. Peering up at him, those eyes, they did something to him he didn't even try to begin to explain. Her body seemed to give off a vibration, just like her business card had. Just like her finger had when she touched him. He couldn't explain it. It was impossible, but it felt as real as the ground under his feet. Heat sizzled between them. Daryl wanted to step away from her, away from that vibration. Yet, he couldn't.

"You say you don't know what you believe. Correct?"

He nodded.

"Do you believe in intuition?" Gesturing with a hand, before refolding it across her chest. "A hunch? Something that flashes in your mind, but you don't know where it came from?"

"Yeah, I guess." His mind went to when he hunted. He was able to sense when an animal was near. Was that what she meant?

"I have an intuition. I get pictures in my mind. A flash. Only a second or two. Sometimes it's a color, or a person's face." She dipped her chin, still holding his eyes. "Sometimes it's a flash of a name."

He wasn't buying this even as the vibration between them grew. "You read minds?" He questioned.

She didn't answer directly. Reaching up onto her toes, moistening her lips, her gaze traveling from his eyes to his lips. He'd never experienced something so overtly sensual and still innocent at the same time.

"I can tell you what you're thinkin' right now."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" His throat felt raw.

"Right now," she all but purred, "you're thinkin' you want to kiss me."


	4. Chapter 4 - Lacuna

**So, each chapter is getting a little longer. I'm thinking this might turn into a full blown story. We'll see. But to the few that are reading, thank you so much. And thanks rckyfrk. You're the bestest. ;)**

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_**Lacuna** : (n.) A blank space, a missing part._

_. . ._

Daryl hightailed his ass out of there. He'd been through alot in his life. Growing up the way he grew up, he had to be tough. Had no other choice. He never ran from anything or anyone in his life. And he wasn't running away from Beth Greene either, hell no. He just had to get out of there and away from her fierce eyes and that damned vibration that he could still feel fifteen minutes later as he pulled up to the nearest quick stop.

Shifting into park, he took a breath, forcing his hands to steady. She did it on purpose, of course. He knew she did. Who in their right mind _wouldn't_ think of kissing her. When she looked up at him the way she did, moistening her lips, what else would he be thinking to do?

Only he _felt_ it. Felt himself moving forward, covering the space that remained between their two bodies. He could almost feel his lips touching hers. Could feel the softness of them. The smoothness of her tongue. Could almost still taste her. But that can't be so.

Could it?

Instead of sitting in his truck trying to figure out the answer to questions he didn't know how to even begin to answer, he went inside the quickstop and bought a twelve pack of beer. He and Merle would be getting shit faced drunk tonight. Convenient since Merle was already halfway there when he had left him at home. All Daryl had to do was catch up.

. . .

Beth sighed heavily, waking up in the early morning hours with Daryl still on her mind. If she were being honest with herself, which she was not, no one else had stirred her the way he had in such a short amount of time. He had the nerve to just show up on her doorstep one night out of the blue. No call or email. Nothing. He deserved what he got from her.

Okay, okay. So that wasn't fair, Beth admitted to herself. There was a code of conduct intuitives were supposed to live by. And that included not eavesdropping on anyone's thoughts without permission. In all fairness, though, it didn't take any psychic ability to guess he wanted to kiss her. She saw the way he looked at her, the way his eyes lingered on her hips. She saw the need in his eyes. Beth knew the best way to get a man like him out of her home, and essentially out of her life, was to scare the hell out of him. Intimacy was usually the best route when it came to a man like him. And she'd been correct in her assumption. Daryl had shot out of her house like a bat out of hell after she called him out on his wanting to kiss her.

She was beyond proving herself to anyone, let alone someone she had just met. Someone that told her, without mincing any words, he did not believe in what she did. Coming out of the proverbial intuitive closet wasn't easy and in the last ten years since she had done so, she had met her share of skeptics, none got under her skin quite like he did.

And why? That she wasn't sure. Sighing again, she snuggled further into her bed hiding from the chill of the room. That was a lie as well. She knew exactly why he got under her skin. With his long legs, shaggy hair, eyes that made her pulse pound and not to mention the overtly manliness he carried so nonchalantly, she was strongly attracted to him. It made her nervous. She didn't know how to act around him. So she did what any other awkward woman who was strongly attracted to a man would do. Scare him off.

Being an intuitive made dating difficult, if not impossible. She had resigned her life to one of solitude. Just her and Max, the cat. Turning her mind, her powers, so to speak, off was not easy to do, though she had gotten better at it. Some people were just easier to read than others. It happened more when she was related to the person or had some sort of connection with. For instance, she knew when Maggie, her sister, was pregnant even before Maggie knew. She was her sister, so that wasn't so strange, Beth supposed. And she knew when a long time friend of hers had been in a car accident before she had gotten the panicked phone call. She had a million little antidotes such as those.

But, it was uncommon for Beth to be able to read someone so clearly she had just met. Especially without much concentration. Before she could brood any further on the subject, she was jutted from bed by pounding on her door. Throwing an overly large sweatshirt over her tank top, and shoved her cold feet into a pair of off-brand Uggs. Pulling her hair up into a messy ponytail, she shuffled to the door. Hoping it was and hoping it wasn't at the same time Daryl returned to her home.

It surprised her just how disappointed she was to find a regular client on her doorstep, and not Daryl.

"I'm so sorry to wake you so early Beth," Rosita Ford, formally Espinosa, spoke without preamble. "But I brought you some coffee." Rosita handed Beth a small to-go cup from the town's local diner.

Beth all but snatched the cup from Rosita and wrapped her cold hands around the hot paper cup. Bringing it to her lips, allowing the hot steam to fill her senses. "Well, I guess I'll forgive you since you brought coffee." Beth winked at Rosita over the top of the cup.

Stepping back from the door, Beth gestured for Rosita to enter. Which she did, shutting the cold damp morning behind her, Beth asked, "What's up Rosita?" Taking a sip of the gloriously hot coffee. Sometimes Rosita came over for just a visit, neither talking about anything important or particular. Sometimes, she came for more specific things.

"AJ at his grandmas?" Beth asked of Rosita's two year old little boy AJ, Abraham Jr.

"Yeah, I have to work in a bit. I was wondering if you could read for me." Rosita voice was rather high pitched, rushed, making Beth think this wasn't her first coffee.

"Oh, sure." Beth said, leading Rosita into the second bedroom nestled in the back of the house that she had converted into an office. Two large leather chairs angled in the center of the facing wall. An octagonal table sat in between the two. An old and heavy desk was adjacent to them, taking up half the calming grey walls. A tapestry with a circular design of deep colors hung behind the desk. One floor to ceiling window allowed a view of the corn field through the gauzy grey curtains. The room was darker for a reason. Too much light made it harder for Beth to concentrate.

Rostia, knowing the routine, dropped down into one of the chairs, letting her purse fall to the floor, tucking her feet up under her. Beth sat in the second chair, sitting on one bent leg. Placing her coffee cup onto the table, she faced Rosita, eyeing her closely. A lot of what Beth did was simply paying attention. Not only looking at people, but _seeing_ them.

Rosita looked tired. A kind of tired that sleep couldn't cure. She married a man, Abraham; a tall ex-marine with red hair and a handlebar mustache three years ago. She had aged considerably since then. Rosita was a beautiful woman with caramel skin and long thick hair. Chocolate brown eyes and rosy apple cheeks. What she saw in Abraham, Beth did not know. But it was not her place to know, so she just did what Rosita asked of her.

"Everything going well?" Beth asked, knowing full well the answer. More times than not, Rosita sported faded bruises she tried to hide. Rosita hid them for others benefit, not for Beth's. Beth knew where exactly Abe put his hands on her, where he left pain or a mark because Beth felt it on her own body exactly where Rosita hurt.

"You know it's not." Rosita said, dropping her facade. "Abe's been so sour lately, he's been drinking a lot more." Rosita stopped when a hickup of emotion bubbled to the surface.

Feeling for her, on more than a external way, Beth reached over and rubbed her forearm. Then sitting back upright in her chair she rested her hands on her knees, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For some clients, mostly newer ones or people that were skeptical or particularly closed, she used the cards. Asking little questions while reading, not wanting to be led in one direction or another, allowing what the client needed to know find her. With Rosita, she was connected to her as a friend, as a woman, so the cards were not needed.

Beth waited, clearing her mind of everything and everyone, saying a prayer of protection for herself and Rosita. Turning internally she waited for that familiar whoosh of air and a deep purple light that would flash behind her eyelids.

Soon enough Rosita's face floated in her mind's eye, she was smiling. Carefree. This was obviously before she met Abraham. So, Beth pushed forward in time. To Rosita rocking her baby boy in an old rocking chair. Beth felt the warmth of love she felt for her baby boy. Then there was Abraham. He was seated in front of a desk. He was being interviewed, Beth realized. Which would make sense since he'd lost his job a month or so ago when he'd gotten mad and punched his boss. He seemed to be doing a good job of fooling the employer, because he was smiling at Abraham. Nodding his head.

"Abraham had a job interview," Beth stated.

"Yes," Rosita confirmed, knowing not to say more.

This was what Rosita came for, Beth understood now. To find out if Abraham had gotten the job. If only all her readings were this easy. A lot of people came to her with heavy questions weighing down their consciousness. Sometimes Beth was able to help them. Other times she was not. It depended on the person and the situation. But job interviews? She could handle that.

Beth focused again. Abraham began to fade, and the light behind her eyes went from purple, to black to golden yellow. A woman appeared. Beautiful and tall. Long yellow blonde hair parted down the middle flowed to her waist. Striking blue eyes. Beth was taken back. Was this someone connected to Rosita? Or maybe Abraham.

"I'm seeing a blonde woman," Beth spoke, her voice sounding far off to her.

"A blonde?" Rosita questioned.

Beth went on to describe her.

"She doesn't sound like anyone I know. Do you, do you think Abe's srewing around?"

It disturbed Beth how quickly Rosita went to that. As though it had happened before. Which, it probably had.

"No, I don't think that's it." Beth tried concentrating harder. Trying to find her way back to Abe and the interview. But the blonde woman persisted. Her smile was breathtaking. She was carefree, walking through a forest of trees. The yellow of the setting sun filtered through the leaves. Beth's hand began to warm, as though she were holding someone's hand. A hand smaller than her own. One she felt protective over. Well, that correlates with Rosita and little AJ...

Suddenly the picturesque little world the woman had led Beth to went grey. Storm clouds rolled in in fast forward and the woman became afraid, her smile collapsing. Beth's heart began to thud in her own chest and she felt panic clawing at her throat. A scream echoed in her mind. The woman began running, pulling whoever's hand she held along with her. A pain smashed into the back of her head before everything left her and Beth's mind went blank.

Rosita was on her feet, standing in front of Beth when she opened her eyes seconds later. "You okay? What did you see? You're pale as a ghost." Rosita took Beth's hand in between her own, rubbing to produce warmth. "You are freezin'."

Sure enough, Beth shivered lightly. After a moment though, she was able to gather her wits and smile for Rosita. The blonde woman she saw had nothing to do with Rosita, of that she was almost certain.

"I'm fine. Don't you worry, Abe will get that job he interviewed for." Beth almost convinced herself that she was fine. Rosita seemed to buy it, and that's what was important.

"Really?" A relieved smile formed on Rosita's face.

"Yep," Beth said with a certainty she did not feel.

"Oh, that's great. Really. He's been so down since he lost his last job."

Beth walked with Rosita out of the room, back into the living room and to the door. Accepting her normal fee she bid Rosita good bye and tried to go on with her day, even though not only did her mind have Daryl to contend with, the image of the blonde woman haunted her as well.


	5. Chapter 5 - Komorebi

_Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. :) This is totally different from what I've done before so I love that (even though its only a few people) seem to really like it. Thank you again!_

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_**Komorebi** : (n.) Sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees._

_. . ._

Daryl woke not feeling any clearer about things than he had the night before. Not only was he hungover, but Beth Greene was still on his mind. His head pounded with the force of a jack hammer and he apparently had a crush like some school aged boy on the town psychic. He'd gone to her, to her home. All but forced himself in and demanded she tell him what he wanted to know. And then got pissed when what she told him wasn't what he wanted to hear. It was a wonder Beth even allowed him into her house to begin with and didn't take one look at him and call 911. He wouldn't of blamed her if she had. Hell, she probably should have. At least he wouldn't be hungover this morning if he'd been forced off her property by the police. Although who's to say he wouldn't of responded in the same way and got drunk anyway.

Stepping from the shower, he looked over his ragged scruffy face in the mirror. He looked exhausted. He looked, well, hungover. If only he'd stuck with the beer then this morning he'd be a little sluggish but not the death warmed over hungover he was. Merle took advantage of having a drinking partner, and when they ran out of beer he brought out a bottle of whiskey. Cheap stuff that burned the whole way down and got the job done quickly. Daryl, already being drunk, joined right in like the idiot he was.

Groaning, trying to keep the liquor that still sloshed around in his stomach in place, he braced his hands on either side of the pedestal sink dropping his head low. The alcohol had made it better for the evening. Now in the bright morning light he felt humiliated all over again. He should apologize to Beth. Though, he wasn't quite sure why. Just in the short amount of time his mother had been around to mother him, she raised him better than this. Rolling his eyes at his own ineptness. Yes, he needed to apologize. And it had nothing to do with the urge to see her again. Nope. None at all.

Opening the medicine cabinet door with a creek, he eyed the Pepto Bismol and then the massive sized bottle of aspirin. Which to take? His head pounded, but his stomach might reject anything he chose to put there, aspirin included.

Figuring he couldn't feel worse, he retrieved two pills from the bottle of aspirin, cupping water in his hand from the faucet he downed the two pills and quickly swallowed a mouthful of the thick pink liquid, clenching his jaws tight and breathing deeply through his nose until the urge to puke lessened.

. . .

Beth had two more clients scheduled for that morning. Both appointments went smoothly with no more interruptions for the mystery blonde woman that showed herself to Beth during Rosita's reading. One client wanted to connect desperately to her recently passed sister and another wanted to know if, after years of infertility, she would ever conceive a child. So, while the appointments went smoothly - she was able to give both positive readings - it was taxing on her nonetheless.

Most intuitives were empathic. As was she. The two went hand in hand for Beth. Being empathic, she absorbed others emotions and feelings. Though she tried to block it, part of her could not fully block it and still do what she did. Each reading chipped away at her. After the evening with Daryl's visit, then Rosita and the two emotional readings, she needed a break even though it was only noon.

Pulling on her ancient Nike's she stepped outside and found it had warmed up considerably once the sun had come out from its hiding place behind the clouds and dried up the dull morning. Max, sunning herself on the porch, looked up uninterested. Telling the cat she'd be back soon, Beth set out for the forest of trees that lined the cornfield behind her house. Finding her path, she walked along noticing the changes that fall brought. The sweet smell of dying leaves as they fell silently to the ground. Fall felt different, it sounded different. Fall wasn't a drying of a season, it was a cleansing, a clearing out. A purifying.

The beams of the fleeting summers sun shone through the remaining leaves making the tiny forest seem magical. Coming to a giant oak tree, its gnarled branches shooting off from the trunk gave the impression of twisted aching fingers. Unchanging, yet it looked as though they shifted positions every time she returned. At the base of the immense trunk a perfect indentation with moss covered flooring begged for her to sit. To just be. To breathe.

Leaning back, allowing the tree to offer up its strength, she closed her eyes. Intentionally allowing her mind to go blank. Taking in the sounds of the woods, the chatter of the chipmunks and squirrels preparing for the upcoming winter, the crunch of leaves under the foot of a deer. The rustle of the remaining leaves in the breeze. Beth felt herself begin to relax. The morning's tension subsided and the comforting pink light on the back of her eyelids returned.

. . .

"Well ain't you bright eyed and bushy tailed this mornin'." Merle asked as he shuffled into the kitchen. Daryl managed to keep down his aspirin as well as a piece of toast before Merle even pulled himself off the couch. "Figured you'd still be passed out bein' the lightweight you are."

Daryl didn't answer him, just continued to sip his cup of water.

"You used to be able to almost drink me under the table. But you sure cain't no more." Merle said, his head disappearing into the fridge and pulling out another beer.

"Some say I might of grown up."

Merle made a "pffft" sound with his lips. "Whatever." He popped the top and guzzled half the can before setting it back down. Daryl didn't know how his brother managed to drink his weight in alcohol each night and wake up unphased and able to drink even more.

"What?" Merle barked when he noticed Daryl looking at him. "It's saturday. I don't gotta work today."

"So you figured you'd just get started early?" He asked, motioning to the beer in Merle's hand.

"Yep," he said and let out that ragged belly laugh of his. Daryl didn't find it very funny. "What are you doin' today? Wanna' join me?" Merle asked, offering the half drank can of beer to Daryl.

Daryl's stomach rolled. "Na', I'll pass."

"See, told ya'. Lightweight."

"I gotta' work a couple hours at the mill then I'll be back around." Daryl lied. It's not like he could tell Merle that he was going to go see a girl. Not just a girl, but a psychic, or intuitive, or whatever it was she called herself. He'd never hear the end of it from Merle, because A) he was going to see a girl and B) he was going to see a different kind of girl. So, he'd just keep it all a secret.

Stopping at the same quickstop he had the night before, this time opting for coffee, black, before he headed out to Beth's. He thought of calling her, maybe texting her. Who knew if she texted, though, and if he called her, that might give her the chance to tell him to not come. And that was a chance he wasn't willing to take.

Turning down her road, he wondered why it was so important to him that he see her again. He'd never cared for any woman's attention before. If someone wasn't interested in him, so be it. He sure the hell didn't care. So why did he care so much what Beth thought or felt about him.

He didn't. Which is exactly what he told himself as he slowed to a stop outside of Beth's house.

After knocking at the door with no response, conceding she could be ignoring him though the house was soundless and that damn cat eyed him suspiciously, he guessed Beth wasn't around. Her car, a beat up Jeep, was parked in front of his truck.

Going back to his truck he took the last drink of coffee, fished out a cigarette from his breast pocket and looked out over the property more thoroughly than he had the night before. An almost falling down barn sat a few yards off and to the back of the house, a lean-to attached to the barn with a few stack's of wood inside. An ax was propped against one of the stacks and a large pile of cut wood was on the ground just outside the lean-to. Apparently she hadn't gotten the dreaded chore of chopping wood done yet.

. . .

Beth must of dozed off because when she opened her eyes, the sun was much higher in the sky. The clouds completely gone and gave way to a clear blue sky. She stretched her arms above her head holding back a yawn. Standing, she was immediately overcome with a familiar yellow light encasing her. The yellow light was sheer and she could see through it but she was stuck inside the bubble.

_Beth_

Someone, something, whispered her name.

 _Beth_. Female, faint. Sounding far off.

Looking around herself, through the gauze of yellow mist the forest was still there. The tree still stood behind her, the limbs still gnarled and bent. A shadow played out the corner of her eye, spinning her head all she caught was the flutter of straw colored hair.

"Who's there?" Beth asked, her voice shaking though she wasn't particularly afraid.

 _Wake up_ , the voice answered.

To which she did, her eyes popping open, her lungs gasping for a breath. It had been a dream. Right? All a dream. Though she knew better. It held the same feeling as her last uninvited vision. It was hard for Beth to explain to anyone, but once she had read a person more than once, they held the same familiarity the next time. Like stepping back into a place she had been before. That's what this had been like. Only she wasn't reading anyone. This vision happened on its own accord. It was unusual for Beth's vision to appear unheeded, in a flash like this one had. Some intuitive's saw people that had already passed. Spectres or spirits. Beth never had. She dealt with the living. Clients sometimes questioned her about their deceased loved ones, but this was different. This was an intrusion she had not brought forth herself. She prefered being in charge of her consciousness and rare was it for a spirit to barge into her psyche uninvited. She made it a point to not leave herself that open.

Beth stood, looking around and everything was as it seemed. As she walked back to her home she chose to ignore her wobbly legs and tingly hands, as well as the vision that had visited her in her sleep. She had no idea what to make of it all.

By the time she had returned home, Beth had convinced herself it was all a dream. A very real feeling dream, a dream just the same. Coming into the clearing of her property, she heard a distinct "thwak" of an ax on wood. _What now?_ she wondered and as she rounded the old barn. There was Daryl balancing a piece of wood onto a stump and then with a powerful swing of the ax, every muscle in his bear arms reverberating, it came down splitting the wood into two even pieces. His sleeveless t-shirt clung to every muscle underneath, his wide shoulders shifting with every movement, his forearms taut with tension.

Beth had to force herself to move forward, to walk to him, her legs weak again, this time for a different reason. About to bring the ax up again, he stopped, letting the ax fall back to the ground, resting his hand on the end of the handle. Kicking out his hip as if he had every right to be there.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked once she reached him, keeping a good five feet in between them.

Daryl looked down at the modest stack of wood he'd piled up since his arrival and said as though it were obvious, "Splittin' wood,"

"I can see that much." Beth answered with a bit of an attitude. "I meant what are you doing here?" She gestured to the house.

"Ya' know they make these fancy contraptions called log splitters. They do the majority of the work for ya'." He spoke, ignoring what she'd asked.

"Fancy means expensive." Beth knew full well what a log splitter was, and she did not have the funds to purchase one now, or ever for that matter. So that meant manual labor for her. It was a lot of work. What choice did she have? Filling the fuel oil tank was even more money than a log splitter. It was either split wood or freeze. 

"I got an old one back at my house, I can do some tinkerin'. See if I can get it up and running for ya'."

"And why would you do that?"

It was strange, but after what she experienced in the woods, having Daryl there was comforting. Unusually, she prided herself on her independence, rathered dealing with things on her own. Most people didn't understand what she went through anyhow. Daryl's presence seemed to calm her nerves. And even though she was inexplicably annoyed he was chopping her firewood, it was a nice thing for him to do. Unless he was just bored and wanted something to do...

He shrugged his shoulders, heaving the ax and giving the piece of wood one last hack before he replaced the ax where he'd found it leaning against the stack of wood. "I jus' know what a pain in the ass it is to split your own wood. When I was little my brother and me used have to do it ourselves." He then began stacking the pile he'd just split.

"You have a brother?" She questioned. Yes, she could've found out that information on her own. Again, she didn't go stumbling around in someone's subconscious without their permission.

"Uh huh." He fought the unsettling urge to tell her about him. How Merle had almost succumbed totally to alcoholism. How he did still work regularly, but his main focus had become beer and occasionally drugs. He kept his mouth shut about his brother. 

Feeling useless just standing there watching Daryl, though she did enjoy the view, Beth joined him and within a short time they'd had stacked the wood into tidy tall stacks. Kind of like a game of tetris.

The overexertion of splitting and stacking wood hit Daryl as he tossed the last piece of wood onto the stack. His head began to pound once more. Up until now he'd been able to ignore the slight banging inside his skull, now it was back full on. Breathing heavily, he leaned back against the stack of wood, closing his eyes for a millisecond. That millisecond didn't escape Beth though.

"What's a matter?" she asked, actually concerned. His was pale and was breathing deeply. He'd closed his eyes and when he opened them again, she saw the pain there.

Reaching for the flannel shirt he'd discarded earlier, he pulled it back on over his shoulders because he was beginning to get chilled in the afternoon breeze, he mumbled. "Nothin'."

"You're head hurt?" Asking though she knew the answer. Her own head held a dull pressure she was sure came from him.

"Yeah, 's fine though. I'll take some aspirin." Which he'd forgotten to bring with him.

"Come on," she said, walking to the house.

"Really, I'm fine."

"Uh huh. I'm sure you are." Beth said over her shoulder, sending him a look. He didn't yet realize he couldn't lie to her.

As though his legs were acting of their own accord, Daryl followed her to the house and through the back entrance into the kitchen. It was a normal kitchen, he supposed, but there were touches of Beth here and there that made the room uniquely hers. A turquoise coffee cup sat on the counter. A wind chime hung at the window above the sink, twangling lightly in an invisible breeze. A bouquet of wildflowers in a cracked vase sat on top of the counter by the gas stove.

"Sit," she all but commanded and he gladly obeyed. Lowering himself into one of the mismatched chairs each painted in a different bright color that surrounded the table. In the center was a rock of some kind. It had protruding edges pointing up and out. Purple and white and grey. He picked it up, peering at if from different angles.

"What the hell is this," he wonder aloud.

She sntached it from him and sat it back where it was in the middle of the table. "It's an amethyst crystal."

"What's it do?"

Ignoring his question, she stood behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. He immediately tensed as he wasn't expecting the contact. But then her hands began to warm. And the warmth penetrated his skin.

"What are you doin' to me, woman?" He asked gruffly. The way her hands felt on his shoulders even through two layers of clothing, unnerved him. What's more is his headache began to lift from the base of his neck, up through his temples and out of the top of his head.

Closing his eyes, he focused on the weight of her hands, on the heat radiating from where they rested throughout the rest of his body. Relaxing but tensing at the same time. Why did this feel so good, he wondered, she wasn't even moving her hands. It wasn't just the relief that the headache was now gone, it was her hands touching him. He realized he liked it too much and he stood abruptly, putting the table between them.

"What the fuck was that?"

Her hand suspended in the air, she looked small, a doe caught in a hunters crosshairs and he cursed himself. He didn't mean to scare her. More calmly he ran a hand through his hair, and said, "I mean, my headaches gone. Jus' like that."

She nodded. Of course, she knew this.

"But how did you do that? You some sort of witch doctor?" He asked meaning to lighten the mood. His joke fell flat with an almost audible thud.

"No," she said quietly. Turning her back to him, she took a glass from the open shelf next to the sink and filled it with water, taking a drink.

"I'm sorry." There was that word again. He'd never said it so much in all his life.

She said nothing, standing with her back to him. He covered the ground in between them in a few steps and touching her elbow, slowly turning her to face him. 


	6. Chapter 6 - Metaphysical

**Each chapter keeps getting longer.**

**Thank you for reading and commenting!**

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**Metaphysical** : (adj.) of or relating to things that are thought to exist but that cannot be seen.

. . .

She wore a wounded look in her eyes, it made him uneasy knowing he had put it there. Grounding his back teeth together, his jaw bones protruding, he beginning to comprehend that he was dealing with another type of woman. One that felt things with a magnitude so deep it reached her core.

Words failed him so he reached up and brushed back a wayward strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. Lingering there, his calloused thumb brushed her cheek. "Who the hell are you?" He asked hoarsely. Rhetorically. It wasn't that he didn't know her, didn't know her name. There were layers deep he had yet to even see.

She looked tentatively up to him with honest eyes and whispered, "I don't expect you, or anyone for that matter, to understand me or this." She gestured with her hands. Her voice unexpectedly hitched with emotion.

Beth backed away from Daryl and he let his hand fall to his hip. She placed her hands on the lip of the counter, much like he had just that morning, letting her head dip down. Inexplicably his heart constricted seeing her in this turmoil.

"What you do, I admit I don't come close to understandin'. But you don't owe me an explication. This is just part of who you are." And he'd accept her as is.

Taking a chance he went to her, placing his hand her shoulder, he pulled her to him again and this time wrapped his arms around her and when she hesitated, when she didn't immediately return the gesture, he held tighter. Finally after a few seconds, or was it hours? Time seemed to warp when he was with her, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his waist. Lightly at first, then tighter and tighter. Burying her face into his chest, breathing in his woodsy outdoor scent.

Just like her hands, her body began to radiate warmth that penetrated his, seeping into his bones that he didn't realize were cold. Resting his chin on the crown of her head, he closed his eyes and instead of the darkness he usually saw, a pink hue glowed on the backs his eyelids.

. . .

Whoever pulled back first, it didn't matter. It was mutual and when they were ready. What's more is Daryl didn't have one foot out the door. He stayed this time. Solid and unmoving even now, after he found out partly what she was capable of.

"You're not leaving?" She asked, somewhat shocked. The average guy took off once they found out her powers. Telling futures was one thing, but healing with her hands was a different matter.

"Why would I leave?" Then, adding, "I ain't goin' nowhere." Last night didn't count. Right? Daryl hopped the hell not.

Beth's heart swelled, the sceptical part of her, though, questioned if he would come back once he did leave her house. Trying her best to be in the moment, to not overthink. To just enjoy the moment. Enjoy the way Daryl's arms felt wrapped tight around her back. The way his body felt pressed against hers.

She smirked. "You're thinkin' of kissing me again, ain't ya'?"

Daryl chuckled. "I jus' might be."

They stood like that a few beats more. Waiting. Expectantly. Daryl regrettably pulled back, "But I ain't gonna'."

What? He wasn't going to? That was as much news to him as it was to Beth.

"You're not?" Beth asked, and much to Daryl's delight she looked visibly disappointed.

"Nope." He answered smiling an endearing half grin. He opened his mouth to speak again, words dying on his lips when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Beth's eyebrows shot up and she pulled back from Daryl completely. A shiver ran through his body from the lack of her heat.

"Oh, that's my next client."

"Client?" Daryl asked looking through the kitchen doorway, the figure behind the front door was just a shadow behind the glass stained window.

"Yeah, I ummm," oh, good Lord help her with this one. "I have clients. That I read for." She expanded, hoping she wouldn't have to go further with her explanation.

"Oh, okay." He supposed he should've deduced as much. He didn't have much time to give it any forethought. This whole concept was new to him.

"Here, go out the back door." Beth said, practically shoving him to the door in the center of the kitchen's back wall. She allotted her clients as much privacy as she possibly could. Many people didn't want anyone to know they saw a psychic or bought into such a thing. Part of the appeal of living out of town, down a dirt dead end road, was that it gave her a bit of animinity. No one would happen to drive by and see your car parked at the psychic's house.

"Wait." Daryl said, before she shoved him out the door. "I wanna' see you again."

"Okay?" She asked, waiting. Wanting so badly to hear what he wanted to say next, but needing him to leave at the same time.

"Let me take you out."

"Out?"

"Yeah, on a date."

 _A date? What was this, sixth grade?_ Daryl, embarrassed at the words coming out of his own mouth, looked down at his feet, then reluctantly back up to her. He'd never, never, asked anyone out on a date before. And he was sure his face was turning thirteen shades of red.

"A date? Sure." Beth couldn't remember the last time she had been out on a date.

I'll pick ya' up tomorrow. Six?"

"Sounds great."

. . .

Beth thought over and over again to call Daryl and cancel their date. Luckily she didn't have his number and couldn't cancel like the coward she was. Instead, she found herself looking through her closet finding nothing to wear. She was never this girl, this woman, that fretted over what to wear. She wore what felt good to her. Why be uncomfortable? This was no different. Daryl obviously knows what she looks like and didn't seem to mind so why was she putting up such a fuss about something so insignificant as what to wear.

Only it wasn't insignificant. She wanted to look good. For him. Beth's cheeks heated with anticipation, thinking of calling Maggie then deciding just as quickly not to. Maggie was busy with Glenn and the baby. Plus she would then have to explain she had a date.

A date. The idea sounded foreign to her. The last time she had gone out with a man had been five years ago. Trying on a dress meant for summer with spaghetti straps that cut off at her knees, knowing it was all wrong, she thought back to Zack. A friend of Glenn's. He seemed nice enough and after meeting at a get together at her Maggie's, he called a few days later. Asked her out. One date led to two and then two lead to three before Zach even realized her insights or her powers. Once he found out he stopped calling. Well, he did call once, just to call her a freak and to say he never wanted to see her again.

Beth prayed Daryl would be different. She pulled the dress back above her head and giving up went for a pair of dark denim jeans and a flowy top the same color of the sun. Leaving her hair down, it was curled and twisted in wavy tendrils down to the middle of her back. Wearing little make-up, which was more than she'd worn in a very long time, she grabbed her bag and went to sit on the porch swing to wait for Daryl.

Soon, six o'clock rolled around. Then 6:05, 6:10. Beginning to get nervous she questioned herself. _He had said six, right? He probably came to his senses and changed his mind._

. . .

 _A date? What the hell was I thinking?_ Daryl mumbled to himself as he retrieved his nicest shirt from the 1980's dryer that sat underneath the overhang of the back porch. Nothing fancy. The only difference between it and his other shirts was that this one had buttons. And sleeves. And was now clean. Daryl slipped it on over his bare shoulders, threading the buttons through each buttonhole, opting to keep the shirt untucked.

As far back as he recalled, he didn't remember ever going out on a date. Not once. Sure, he'd met up, hooked up and had more one night stands than he cared to admit. Date, though? Hell no.

He had this inexplicable urge to see Beth. To talk to her. Touch her. To know everything there as to know about her. He didn't even begin to understand it, or try to. He was attracted to her, who wouldn't be? It was more than that. So much more. He just couldn't vocalize what that "more" was.

Pulling on his only pair of boots, beat up old work issued Redwings, he hoped he might miss Merle. No such luck when just as he was pulling his pant leg down over the boot Merle's bike rumbled down the drive.

"Fuck." He'd hoped to just be gone by the time Merle got home, it'd be easier to explain in the morning where he'd been. Or make up a lie. Now Merle would see him dressed up, by Dixon standards, ready to leave for the evening.

Grabbing his keys and cell phone, he pulled the front door open just as Merle stepped onto the porch with a paper bag wrapped around some kind of alcohol tucked up under his arm.

"Where you goin' all spiffed up?" He asked, eyeing Daryl's shirt suspiciously.

"Nowhere that concerns you. Looks like you got your night all planned." Daryl said, nodding to the paper bag.

If Merle was offended, he didn't let on. Only snorted as though Daryl made a joke. "Yep, me and the my Bud," he retorted, slapping the bag with an open palm.

"Be back later." Daryl told Merle rounding him on the steps.

"Yeah, see ya'.

Jumping on his own Harley, it worried him how easy that was. Almost too easy. Oh well, he was on his way now.

. . .

Just as Beth had checked her phone for what felt like the hundredth time, chewing the skin next to her thumbnail, a motorcycle sounded in the distance. Low and deep and as it came closer it vibrated in her chest. It gave her a peculiar feeling. Never once had she been attracted to the sound of a motorized vehicle before. But this, this unique pop-pop, pop-pop, activated a bad boy attraction she didn't know existed within her. She stood as Daryl turned down the driveway. His shaggy hair flowing from underneath his half helmet skull cap. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. And Beth's heart skipped. His lateness all but forgotten.

He killed the engine parking next to her car, and swung his long leg up and over the seat. Unstrapping the helmet he slightly shook his head, sending a hand through his hair. To Beth, he was the epitome of male sexiness.

Grinning at her own silliness, she stepped down the stairs, and went to him.

"Sorry," he cringed at that word again, "I got caught up at the train tracks."

Beth knew where he spoke of. On the way out of town there were tracks that a train seemed to always be going through, stopping traffic whenever you were in a hurry to get somewhere. "And then..."

"Your phone wouldn't work?" Beth asked. The train track intersection was also a known dead zone. No texts or calls would go through within a mile.

"Yep." Then he seemed to notice her. "You, uh, look good." Compliments went along with the word sorry. They didn't come readily or easily for him.

She felt herself blush. "Thanks," she responded softly.

Time spanned on awkwardly until Daryl finally spoke. "So, you ever ride a motorcycle before?"

"Nope, sure haven't"

"Well, ain't you in for a treat. Here," he said, gingerly setting the helmet onto her head and clasped the straps under her chin. "Wouldn't wantcha' to hurt that beautiful brain of yours."

Beth giggled, and watched as he mounted the ride again and patted the seat behind him. "What about you?" She asked about his missing helmet. 

"'s okay. I like to live dangerously," he chuckled and winked at her. That wink making her belly do a strange flip flop. Between that wink and her nervousness, it'll be a wonder she'd be able to eat at all.

. . .

Before long, and after Beth's first ride on a Harley holding tighter than need be around Daryl's waste, they were seated at one of the towns "nicer" restaurants. It was owned by an elderly couple for over thirty years. It was a comfortable place decked out in burgundy and deep blues and cheap plastic tablecloths. Ten tables were sprawled out in the middle of the dining area and booths surrounded the outer area.

They opted for a booth. Ordering cokes, they slid into easy talk about their day with the conversation turning toward more deeper things. Beth began to relax.

"So, where'd you grow up? Not here?" Daryl was sure he'd noticed her before if she had.

"Nope. I grew up a little north of here. But I've lived all over." Always a wandering gypsy spirit.

"And why's that?"

"Couldn't find a place that fit, I guess." Deflecting the attention from herself back to Daryl. "You grew up here?"

"Uh huh." He nodded his head, wrinkling up his straw wrapper into a ball.

"And you have a brother?" She asked, trying to get him to open up.

"Yep. Merle."

And with his name came a flash. The picture of an man, a little older than Daryl. Scruffy face, hollowed out cheeks, grey skin. His eyes, which were a shade deeper than Daryl's in color, still twinkled. He was laying on a couch, drinking a can of Budwiser watching television. She stopped herself there. While she wanted to know more about Daryl, she wouldn't allow herself to find out this way. He'd tell her what he wanted her to know.

After they placed their orders, deluxe hamburger and fries for Daryl, chicken strips with a side of coleslaw for Beth and the waitress left them alone again, Beth blurted, "It's okay. Ask what you want."

Beth found the average person was curious about her abilities. She felt Daryl was no different. He was just polite enough to not bombard her with personal questions. Thankfully he didn't feign that he didn't know what she was talking about.

"How's it work? You said you see pictures..."

"Yes." She nodded, taking a sip of her coke. "Like, our waitress there," she said of the woman across the room waiting on another couple, "she has two sons. How do I know?" Beth asked before Daryl did, and shrugged her shoulders. "When she took my menu from me, she brushed my hand and I could see her with two toe headed little boys. I felt the love she has for them. And then, if I wanted to, I could focus in on that to find out more. But I won't do that. Not without her permission. I can't help that first glance, that just happens sometimes. Going deeper without their okay would be an intrusion."

Daryl was blown away. She said it so nonchalantly. Like it was no big deal. When, in actuality, what she did was amazing. "Wow, that's crazy." He cringed at his words and quickly backtracked. "I'm sorry." That damn word again. "I didn't mean..."

Beth surprised him by laughing. A beautiful melodic sound and she reached across the table placing her hand on his. "I know what you meant Daryl."

Breathing a sigh of relief he turned his hand palm up, linking his fingers around her wrist. Her hand was so tiny, delicate, in his hand. "How long have you been able to do that?"

"For as long as I can remember. I didn't embrace it till about 10 years ago when I was 18. And now I couldn't imagine going back."

"What you do, you help people?" Daryl asked a little in awe. She was beautiful, intelligent and apparently kind.

"Sometimes. I mean, if someone wants to know the winning numbers of the lottery or where Uncle Stan stashed his cash, then you've come to the wrong person. That's not what this is used for."

Daryl nodded, thinking he did understand her after all.

Dinner was tasty and talk was easy and smooth. And they both lingered over their Coke's once the waitress had taken their plates away. Beth's hand found her way back to Daryl's. His thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

"I'm glad you came out with me tonight." Daryl, even though it made him feel very uncomfortable, told her straight how he felt.

"I'm glad I did too."

"Well. Looky here!" A voice interrupted them followed by a man with dark hair and eyes walking up to their table followed by a tall blonde woman with clothes as tight as a second skin."What the hell you doin' here, Daryl?"

Daryl regretfully pulled his hand from Beth's and rested it on the edge of the table, suddenly hankering for a smoke. "Hey Shane."

Beth looked from the man, then back to Daryl. He appeared to know the man, he seemed less than excited to see him.

"Who's this?" He asked looking from Daryl to Beth. Beth squirmed under this man's gaze, adjusting the wide strap of her shirt. Pushing her hair back off her shoulders.

Reluctantly he answered looking apologetically at Beth. "This is Beth."

"Well nice to meet ya'. This is Andrea." The woman standing at Shane's side eyed Beth a little too closely and her uneasiness grew.

"Don't I know you?" The woman asked.

"Oh, I don't know. Small town and all." Whenever Beth ran into a client, past or current, she tried to play it cool. Some people chose to ignore her, which was fine with Beth. Others were polite and then there people like Andrea which had the kooth of a Rino.

"I do know you! You're the psychic," she said, pointing a red tipped index finger at Beth. Her eyes growing large with surprise and then slapping lightly at Shane's upper arm. "She's a psychic. I went to see her? When was it?" Her attention back on Beth. "A year or so ago."

"Something like that." Beth answered, looking down at her hands twisted in her lap, eyeing Daryl out the top of her eyes. Trying to gage how he was reacting. He seemed just as reluctant as she to see where the conversation was heading.

"Psychic?" Shane looked slowly back to Beth. "Ya' don't say? Quick what number am I thinkin' of."

 _52, douchebag_. Beth didn't answer out loud.

"We was just leaving. Catch ya' later Shane." Daryl said, effectively shutting Shane down. He stood and Shane had to move before Daryl pushed him away.

"Yeah, see ya'," Shane replied, obviously perturbed about being dismissed.

. . . 

Beth was quiet on the way home. And it wasn't just because they were on a motorcycle. Her gifts were a blessing, but could also be a curse. She knew what was coming; the _I'll call ya' sometime_ , and he never would. It had happened before. Regrettably, she really liked Daryl. He seemed to like her until he realized what a freak people tended to think she was. How people like Shane thought of her as a sideshow performer that can perform tricks.

Dismounting the bike, she undid the strap under her chin and handed the helmet back to Daryl. Telling him a quick "Goodnight. Thank's for dinner," she turned her back to him, making her way to the house. Before she could get very far, Daryl had her by the elbow stopping her.

"Where ya' goin' so fast?"

In the fading light, he could see the slight bewilderment in her eyes and he wondered where that came from.

"I just figured..." Beth said, letting her words falter.

"You figured what?"

"That you wouldn't want to see me after what happened at the restaurant."

"After what happened?" He questioned, confused. "Oh, you mean Shane?"

Beth nodded, her downturned smile made Daryl ache.

"He's an idiot. Don't let him bother you none. It didn't bother me. Well, 'sept for him bein' an asshole to ya'. But that's just Shane. An asshole." He knew the fallout was coming once Merle found out where he was tonight.

"Come 'mere," he said pulling her closer until their bodies touched. Placing his bent fingers under her chin, waiting for her eyes to meet his and when they did, they were full of uncertainty and trepidation.

"What's wrong?" He questioned. Everything was going so well and then Shane screwed things up.

"It's okay. I understand."

"Tell me what exactly you understand." Because he sure the hell didn't get it. So what, Shane was a bonehead? What's that got to do with them.

"You don't want to see me again. Just do me a favor and don't tell me you'll call when I know you won't."

Still holding onto her, he took a step back to see her better. "And why won't I want to see you again?"

"Because... because I'm me," she was on the verge of embarrassing herself by crying so she kept her explanation short and to the point.

"I'm pretty sure that's _why_ I want to see you again."

Utterly confused, she asked, "You do?"

"Hell yeah."

"Even with all the complications that come along with me?"

"Honey, I don't see any complications other than I haven't kissed you yet."

Finally she smiled. And it lit up his world. Taking that smile as a good sign, he lowered his lips to hers gentle as he possibly could.

What happened next can only be described as metaphysical. Eyes closed, a light flashed in his mind, his lips began to tingle against Beth's and he wondered briefly if she was feeling something similar. Sinking in he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her so close. The feeling of levitativity surrounded him and if he didn't know any better, he'd swear he was beginning to float.

Beth moaned and leaned further into him, throwing her arms around the back of his neck, angling her head to allow Daryl better access and when he slipped his tongue into her mouth her knees grew weak.

Afraid to pull back, afraid it'd break this unexplainable spell they were tethered under, but at the same time knowing he had to pull back. He had to stop because he, for some reason unbenounced to him, wanted to do this right. Letting things go too far too soon, was not the right thing. So slowly he ended the kiss and floated back to earth.


	7. Chapter 7 - Resonance

_**Thank you so much for reading/commenting!** _

* * *

_**Resonance:** (n.) the reinforcement or prolongation of sound by reflection from a surface or by the synchronous vibration of a neighboring object._

_. . ._

After watching Daryl drive away on his Harley, sure to wake everyone within a 10 mile radius, she gave him a little wave. Smiling way bigger than should be allowable by law, she unlocked her door, still feeling the press of Daryl's kiss on her lips.

. . .

As Daryl drove further and further away, an ache began to hallow its way into his chest. Was this what it was like to miss someone? Someone you were just with? That was crazy. Bat shit crazy. He'd never missed anyone before. He missed his mother, he supposed. Missed her something fierce when he was a boy. This was different. It wasn't a devastation so much as an dull ache. An ached that could only be filled with Beth.

Beth. Just her name made his stomach collywobble. He was half tempted to turn back around and demand she open her door to him again. He didn't want to come across too strong though, so he kept on his way back home. Out back onto the main road, over the tracks, through town and out the other side, to the run down house he and Merle shared since childhood.

As he pulled in, his spirits plummeted at the sight of Shane's truck parked next to his Ford and Merle's beat up old Dodge. He knew it was coming, he'd only hoped it'd wait till the morning at the very least. Parking his bike in the garage, taking a breath he blocked off what he felt for Beth, lest they somehow read what was on his face. He went through the garage and then the breezeway and into the house. Shane and Merle sat at the kitchen table, empty cans littered the surface between them.

"Well, well, well. If it ain't Romeo back from his date." Shane smirked, eyeing Merle who rolled his eyes in return.

Going to the fridge, retrieving his own beer, Daryl couldn't help but get in his own dig. "Where's your date? What was her name Amber? She musta' cost you a pretty penny."

"Andrea." Shane corrected, letting out a loud belch.

"Whatever. Couldn't seal the deal?"

"Oh, I sealed the deal jus' fine."

"Uh huh. That's why you're sittin' here with Merle." Maybe if he deflected the attention off himself he'd be able to bypass the conversation they were chomping to get to.

Popping the top, he began to walk from the kitchen into the living room, but Merle stopped him.

"So, Shane says you was out with some psychic or somethin'."

"I was out with a girl." He conceded that much. An amazing, beautiful girl.

"She was pretty hot one too. A hot psychic." Shane bellowed out on a laugh. Merle, to his credit, seemed reluctant to join in. After a second, though, he did, just less enthusiastically.

Daryl knowing he had to shut this, whatever it was - jealousy maybe - down before it got any further. Sitting his beer down on the table, and then leaning down, so he was eye level with Shane.

Calmly he spoke, "You talk about her again, so much as say one word and I will mangle that pretty face of your's so badly your own Mama won't recognize you."

Shane smirked, perhaps thinking he was kidding. The smile died on his lips quickly when he realized Daryl meant serious business. The interesting thing about being a quiet person like Daryl was that no one ever knew quite what he was capable of. Never quite knew what was going on in his mind.

Knowing Shane heard him, and understood, he stood, stretching his back casually, picking up his beer he strode out of the kitchen.

. . .

Beth slept fitfully, the same blonde woman haunted her dreams all the night through. Still, she woke in a good mood thinking of her evening with Daryl. Thinking, mostly, of their kiss. Feeling much like a schoolgirl with a crush, she thought of him as she showered, as she made toast and coffee, as she sat out on the porch swing in the cool morning air, she thought of him.

Sighing to herself, she realized she had forgotten, yet again, to get his cell phone number. Maybe that was a good thing. Then she wasn't tempted to call him.

Taking a deep breath, and a figurative step back, she rose and went back inside to prepare for her first client of the day. She saw anywhere from one to five clients a day. People came from all over, some driving for hours. Word spread quickly about her abilities and the internet helped considerably to get her name out there.

Yes, she could work a regular 9-5 job. And did for a long time. Afterall, she had a degree in early elementary education. It was exhausting work and not just because working with children, while fulfilling, is exhausting. Being who she was, and what she was, she felt everything overwhelmingly so. A child had a stomach ache, she had a stomach ache. A child was angry or emotional. Beth, in turn, would feel that child's anger and emotion. If a child struggled, she felt that child's frustration and sadness. It became too much for her to deal with on a daily basis.

Then her father died leaving her the farm. She moved there for a short while, but like teaching, it became too much. Everywhere she turned was her father, or her mother who died years before. A memory but more than a memory. She felt it as if it were really happening in that moment. So over much deliberation and with heavy heart, and Maggie's okay, she sold the home they had grown up in. Because of this, she was able to live, if she did so frugally, on the money from the sale of the house and property, and her services. It was fulfilling and interesting work. Beth never knew who or what will pop up.

On today's schedule was a woman in her 40's with a cap of grey hair in a pixie cut. She was a social worker, specializing in runaway teens. Occasionally she asked Beth to aid her in finding one of those teens. Occasionally she was helpful. Occasionally not. Either way, Beth always asked for Carol to keep her name away from the police and media.

Mostly Carol stuck to her personal life. As she did this day.

Carol was hard to read and not near as personable as someone like, say, Rosita so Beth used the cards when reading for her. She was also a cut-to-the-chase type of person, so after brief pleasantries they got to work. Beth shuffled the cards eight times and split them into three piles onto the octangular table that sat in between the two chairs in her office. Asking Carol to flip the top card of each pile to face up position.

Though Carol probably knew the drill by now, Beth still explained. "In this type of reading, the first card represents the physical world. Page of Pentacles," Beth named the card, Carol nodded ushering her on.

The card showed a young man, standing alone in a field of grass and flowers. "The Page of Pentacles is very goal oriented. There's not much that can deter him from what he wants. Carol, do you have a new goal in mind. Something new at work, perhaps?"

"I am up for a promotion." Carol filled in, a line of concentration forming in between her eyes. One look told Beth she didn't really want to take the promotion, for some reason Carol felt she should.

Diving down into her intuition, Beth spoke, "I see how that can tie into the second card is representative of the mental realm. The Ten of Pentacles. Security. Happiness. Those are the things you crave. The things you need in your life."

"Yes, for Sophia." Carol spoke of her twelve year old daughter. "What's the third card mean?" Carol pushed on.

The third card in this kind of spread correlated with the spiritual realm. Carol drew The Tower. A chill ran down Beth's spine and she hesitated. Waiting on what her intuition told her. The person who picks this card in particular might indicate they believe material objects are more powerful than the spirit and mind. The Tower begins to build up a falsehood on a very unstable foundation of material things. The life you've constructed, will collapse taking the person along with it. The soul within the body of the person cannot withstand the strain.

This could easily be tied to Carol. Working as hard as she does, because she has to, but something nagged at Beth. Like an idea that wouldn't formulate, a word on the tip of her tongue. A shadow in her peripheral vision again. The word 'danger' flashed in her mind. Though, she knew it had nothing to do with Carol.

Trying to stay focused on Carol, Beth asked, "Does this promotion require longer hours?"

"Yes, it would."

"Hmmm..." Part of Beth's work required tact with the guidance she offered. Far be if of her to tell someone they should not take a promotion. Especially a single mother. This, though, might be detrimental to Carol and her daughter. "And would that bring you and Sophia the happiness you desire?"

Carol slumped her shoulders. "No," she said quietly. Then louder, "No, it wouldn't."

While the Tower card can be construed as negative; the tower being struck by lightening, the person falling from the tower, flames shooting from the windows. In contrast, it can be an opportunity. An opportunity to do what is right.

. . .

Walking with Carol to the door, Beth felt the release of tension around her shoulders. Around Carol's shoulders.

"Thank you, Beth." Carol said, fishing in her purse for her wallet. "Deep down, I knew what to do. What was best. I just needed to hear it from another source I guess."

Taking her payment, something she wondered if she'd ever feel comfortable doing. "Ultimately you do know what to do, you just have to try 'n quiet your mind so it can come through. Easier said than done, I know." Beth conceded.

After seeing Carol out, Beth went back to her office. Picking up the stack of cards, she felt a tingle in her hand. Sitting back down, curling her feet underneath her, she began shuffling the cards for herself. Working intuitively, without much thought. Breathing in through her nose and out through the mouth. Visualizing exhaling everything that worried her or left her with this discombobulated feeling. Knowing her worries would be there when she returned to her mind. For now, she let your mind become clear and empty, focusing on the shuffling sound of the cards. Waiting for her body to relax and the comforting warmth that started with her hands and radiated through the rest of her body.

Silently she asked the cards, _"What do I need to know right now? What is the world trying to tell me?"_ She spread the cards out onto the table. Closing her eyes, she ran her hand about an inch above the cards from the right to the left. Waiting for her hand to feel a presence, a pressure, above a card. And when that happened, she pulled that card from the deck, turning it upright onto the table.

The Tower showed itself to her for the second time that day. What it meant, Beth had no idea. She felt she had a firm grasp on her life, and what she was doing with it. Her foundation was solid. The only thing that had changed recently was the sudden emergence of Daryl Dixon.

. . .

The day went by as though nothing had changed, when in reality everything had appeared to change. The sun seemed brighter, the air seemed crisper, even the food Daryl ate tasted better. He wondered mildly if he was really that sappy. Just because, by all pretenses, he had a girl, the world was a better place? He wasn't buying it, but he sure the hell would take it.

Knocking off work at the Mill a little early, he, through no control of his own, drove straight out to Beth's. He wanted to see her. Talk to her. Kiss her. Touch her skin. This pull was nothing he'd ever experienced before. Merle would of called him whipped, even though they weren't having sex. Whatever this was, he liked the way it made him feel. The warm sensation that permeated in his body. The lightheartedness in his chest. Her sagey scent stayed with him, and now he didn't even try to fight it.

Pulling down her drive, parking in what was quickly becoming his normal spot, he rounded his truck and stomped up to the porch. Music blared from inside the house. Foo Fighters, if he wasn't mistaken. When she didn't answer his knock, he tried the handle and it opened with a slight push. Had she kept it unlocked for him, though she had no idea he was coming out to the house? Did she know he was coming over?

Opening the door, his eyes scanned the room and there she was with her back to him. Ponytail high on the top of her head, swishing to the movement of her body. She spun around three times, then her hips began to move to the tune of that bounced out of the blue tooth speaker on the mantle of the fireplace. A traditional ballet dance set to the high speed soul pumping song of Everlong.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned against it. In all his life, if he'd ever had the breath taken from him, this was it. Dressed in an oversized flannel and leggin's, she raised one leg and extended it in a straight line parallel to her body.

 _The only thing I'll ever ask of you_  
_You've got to promise not to stop when I say when_

Bringing her leg back down, her arms swan diving, she spun around, bending at the waist in what seemed to be an impossible fashion. Straightening again, pulling up onto her toes, then back down. She was light as air, fluent as the wind. Spinning around, she stopped short, a yelp escaping her lips. Color peeked in her cheeks from surprise as well as a little embarrassment at being caught mid-dance.

Chuckling softly, he went to her and wrapped his hands around her tiny waist. Needing to touch her, not able to stop himself. "Don't stop on account a' me."

 _Breathe out, so I can breathe you in_  
_Hold you in_

"I didn't realize you were comin' out." Bashfully, she looked down. That wasn't true, she knew he was. Just not when. Daryl bent his head, forcing her to look at him. After a long day of clients, Beth needed to blow off some steam. Music was one of her go-to for such things. Singing, dancing, or just listening, depending on her mood. Beth reached up to the mantle and switched off the speaker.

"You don't want me here?" He asked. That had occurred to him as he drove to her house. Yet, he kept on driving.

Her chest rose and fell, slightly out of breath. "No. No I want you here." She spoke with such enthusiasm, he didn't doubt how she felt.

"Where'd you learn that?" They still had so much to learn about one another.

"Ballet. From the time I could walk. Till I was about, oh..." she looked up, thinking, "sixteen."

"What made you stop?" He was no connoisseur, but he was amazed by the way she made her body move.

"Ballet? Oh, I wasn't driven enough. Now I just do it to keep my body limber."

Limber? He liked the sound of that. "That looked like pretty back breaking work to me."

She smiled, rolling her shoulders. Then lifting up on her toes, she pressed their lips together. And this. This was what she'd been thinking about all day long. Feeling the vibration between them. He cupped the back of her head, smoothing his palm down her hair. Her skin was milk pale, delicately flushed from the passion that was being created between them.

Daryl's slid his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers and she made a small, helpless sound. Leaning into him, running her hands from his waste, up to his chest, then up to his shoulders where they grasped and pulled him down closer to her.

When he pulled back, Beth kept her eyes closed a moment as though savoring. And when she opened them, he lowered his forehead to hers in a moment of tenderness he'd never shown, or wanted to show, anyone before.

"Well, no matter what happens between us. We know that part works."

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**The line: _"Well, no matter what happens between us. We know that part works."_ Is from Gilmore Girls. Jess says it to Rory in episode 8 of Season 3 Let the Games Begin. **

 


	8. Chapter 8 - Pistanthrophobia

_**Thank you so so so much to ivyandocean for helping me with this chapter (and the next). I probably would've given this one up if not for your help. Thanks to everyone for reading. The next chapter should be up soon.** _

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_**Pistanthrophobia** : (n.) The fear of trusting someone._

_. . ._

And seamlessly they fell into a routine of sorts. Daryl would come out to Beth's house in the evenings after work. He would find her making dinner, or doing something as mundane as folding laundry. Or she would be waiting for him on the porch, bundled up in a oversized flannel jacket with fleece lining. A steaming cup of coffee or tea in a mug cupped in her hands. Swaying slightly back and forth. Her face lighting up as he climbed the steps to join her. He'd sit next to her and she would automatically curl into his side and his arm would go around her shoulders.

Daryl's initial idea to keep his distance crumbled every night when she would sigh and lean into him. When he wasn't with Beth, he wished he was. When he was with her, he wished to be even closer to her. This was a new experience for him. Keeping people at arm's length had always been easy for him. Probably because other people automatically kept their distance from him, not so much the other way around. Either way, it worked out. The only people he'd let in were people he'd known his whole life. And even then, those people were few and far between. There always was his brother. Sometimes, though, Merle felt more like baggage he couldn't shake. But he was still his brother, always would be.

And then, there was his cousin Aaron.

Aaron was a stand up guy, probably one of the best people Daryl knew. Aaron was his mother's sister's kid and because of this, he managed to bypass the Dixon gene. For some reason, Aaron had always taken a liking to Daryl. Always seeing something in Daryl no one, except Beth, took the time to see.

Daryl always managed to end up at Aaron's a couple times a week for dinner and Aaron had noticed his absence the past few weeks. It wasn't really a surprise when Daryl received a text from him one day on his lunch break at work.

 _Where have you been lately?_ The screen read. Aaron would never use the shortened wording that so many use in text messages. No, Aaron spoke in complete sentences, so of course he would text in complete full sentences. Always put your best self forward, he always said. And for some reason, he always pushed Daryl to do the same.

Still, Daryl was no English Lit professor. His oversized thumbs weren't meant for texting. He answered, _What u mean? I been here, where I always am._

_Eric and I miss you. Spaghetti night isn't the same without you._

Aaron spoke of his partner Eric, which was why Merle had nothing to do with their cousin. Daryl couldn't honestly care less that Aaron was gay.

Torn between outright telling Aaron he had a girl, and being more obtuse about the details, he answered, _I been a lil preoccupied._

_Oh, that sounds interesting. Do tell._

_Nothin to tell._

_Don't make me call you. Or come over. Because you know I will._ Aaron threatened humorously. And yes, he would come over to Daryl and Merle's house. Aaron loved nothing more than to riffle Merle's feathers.

 _Good Lord, don't do that._ Daryl joked, snorting aloud.

 _Come over tonight. We'll discuss whatever, or whomever, is preoccupying you._ Aaron guessed correctly that his this had to do with a woman.

Daryl knew it was futile to argue. _Fine. Be there 'bout 6._

After Daryl was through with texting Aaron he called Beth. Not just because he wanted to hear her voice, he wasn't that pathetic. Was he? No, he needed to call her to invite her to dinner at his cousin's house.

. . .

When he arrived at Beth's that night to pick her up for dinner at Aaron's, as usual she met him on the porch. And as usual, she looked incredible. Tight dark colored skinny jeans hugged her long legs, swelling at her hips. Pant legs tucked into red cowboy boots. There was just something about those boots that made his heart pound. She wore a white long sleeved t-shirt under a jean vest. Her long hair was pulled back in a barrett, leaving it to flow down her back.

He didn't want to believe what this one woman did to him, how she turned him inside out. How she made him want her more intensely than anyone ever had.

Standing at the top step, Beth cocked her head and smiled, "You're staring again." If Daryl didn't know any better, he'd say she knew exactly what she did to him, and enjoyed it.

"You jus' look good," he said, looking down at his dusty boots. Cursing his ineptness with words again.

She smiled broadly, not seeming to mind. "I'm ready if you are," Beth said, sashaying her way down the stairs and over to where Daryl stood, lifting on her toes to place a sweet kiss to his lips. Tempting. So tempting to skip out on Aaron and Eric and their amazing spaghetti just to have time alone with Beth.

She pulled him by his arm to the truck parked next to her jeep. "I'm excited," she chirped as they climbed into the cab.

"You are?" He asked, a tiny bit baffled.

"Oh yeah. I didn't realize you had any family other than Merle." Who she had yet to meet, but she left that out. For now.

"Aaron's about it. His parents, my aunt and uncle, are still alive. They live in Florida. I haven't seen 'em in years."

"This is a big deal then? Taking me to meet the fam." Her voice held a slight joking hilt to it, but it didn't bypass her how big of a step this was for someone like Daryl. Someone that held everything so internally.

"Shush, you." he joked back, sending her a wink over the seat of the truck.

. . .

As they entered the two story tudor style house, with an impeccable lawn and white shutters and picket fence to boot, the warm spicy smell of spaghetti sauce wafted in the air. The foyer opened into the living room where a fire smoldered in the river rock fireplace. The living space was contemporarily decorated but warm. Comfortable, in hues of blue and grey.

"Thought I heard that piece of crap of yours pull up." A man a little shorter than Daryl rounded the corner from a room toward the back of the house. He had short, curly hair and warm blue eyes. Neatly dressed in an untucked blue button up striped shirt, he seemed to be the opposite of Daryl in every way. He stopped short when Daryl moved to the side, to allow Beth to enter the living room first.

"Well, who is this?" Aaron asked, gathering his wits quick enough. Aaron's eyes sparkled from Beth to Daryl then back to Beth again.

"This is Beth." Daryl mumbled and gestured to her.

His shyness was endearing. Putting up her mental block so as not to read anything from Aaron if she could at all help it, Beth stuck her hand out to greet him, "Nice to meet you, Aaron." As his hand slid into hers, all she felt, thankfully, was Aaron's warmth and affection for Daryl.

"And it's nice to meet you, too. So glad you could join us for dinner on such short notice. I knew something must have been eating up our boys time, but I would've never guessed his preoccupation was something so pretty."

Now Beth felt herself blush.

"Come on then, Eric's in the kitchen. Dinner's almost done."

Daryl placed his hand on the small of Beth's back, guiding her into the kitchen. Not just any old kitchen. A magnificent chef's kitchen with tall ceilings, a six burner gas range, a subzero fridge that Beth guessed was big enough to stand in, tile flooring and double french doors leading out to a plant filled solarium.

None of that really registered so much as Beth was mostly interested in people, not things. A man stood up from the oven with a pan of fresh garlic bread in his oven-mitted hand. Similarly dressed as Aaron, except he wore a green button up shirt. Tucked in. Less casual. Skinny with reddish hair and sparkling green eyes. This person was obviously Aarons partner. She smiled and walked to him as he placed the garlic bread onto the stove, she offered him her hand.

"Hi. I'm Beth. The apparent preoccupation of Daryl."

They all shared a laugh that broke any uncomfortableness that might have been felt. Daryl smiled at Beth, a full smile this time, not just that half grin thing he usually did. He looked relieved. Beth felt her heart skip a beat and an upsurge of love flowed over her like a tidal wave. Daryl was a handsome, kind man. He was like a well hidden secret no one but a few people knew what and who he was really about. She felt privileged to know this part of him he hid so well.

The conversation came easily at dinner. The food was amazing, thanks to Eric who was apparently a chef for a high end restaurant in the next town over. It became apparent to Beth Daryl's affection for Aaron and Eric, and their affection for him as well. This helped Beth feel at ease with them.

"So, how did you all meet?" Eric asked after he had served everyone a huge helping of spaghetti and side salad.

"Oh, umm." Beth began. She never knew how someone would respond to the knowledge of her abilities and the last thing she wanted was a repeat of their dinner date. Hedging her bets that Eric and Aaron would probably be understanding, she decided she was safe being upfront with them.

Daryl interrupted before she had a chance to tell them, though. "We met at the fair."

Both Eric and Aaron looked up simultaneously.

"You were at the fair?" Aaron asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"What? I go to the fair..." Even Daryl couldn't get the fib out with a straight face.

When their laughter died down, Beth spoke up. "He was there. I saw it with my own eyes."

"Aww, did your eyes connect across the crowd and you just had to meet?" Eric asked somewhat wistfully.

"Not quite." Taking a bite of garlic bread, chewing for a moment before she spoke again. "I was working there."

"You're a carnie? Get out?" Aaron teased.

"Well not exactly. I was running a booth of sorts though. Helps pay the bills a little." She spared Daryl a look and he nodded his head ever so slightly. His way of communicating his okay with her telling them who exactly she was. "I was running a fortune teller's booth. I'm an intuitive." She prefered intuitive over psychic in most settings, even though people seemed to grasp the concept of psychic better. "A psychic."

Silence followed, as it usually did. To their credit, they seemed to shake off their shock quickly. "You don't say?" Aaron asked.

"Well, isn't that fascinating." Eric interjected. And that was pretty much that. No one asked her what number they were thinking, no one asked her weird or inappropriate questions or why she wasn't a millionaire by guessing the winning lotto numbers. Conversation went on. Much to Beth's relief, they accepted her.

After dinner, Beth insisted on helping with dishes. She carried plates into the kitchen and piling them in the sink, began scraping off food into the disposal, prepping them for the dishwasher. Aaron, bringing in another load, joined her at the sink.

"Daryl went out for a smoke, I told him not to worry. That you were safe with me."

Filling the sink up with soap and water, Beth laughed. "I'm not worried. Don't know why he would be."

"Well, you have got to be pretty special to him." This from Eric who began putting away the leftover spaghetti into a glass dish.

"What makes you say that?" Beth tried to sound casual, but Eric's statement made her curious.

"He's never, and I mean never, introduced me to any of his girlfriends," Aaron said, enunciating the word 'never'.

"And as far as I know, he's never had a "girlfriend". Eric said, using air quotes.

"Not in the traditional sense." Aaron agreed. With a plate held mid air, Aaron looked at Beth, really looked at her.

Feeling the weight of his stare on her, with a small confused smile playing on her lips, she asked "What?"

"You remind me so much of her." The blue of Aaron's eyes took on a deeper shade with his more serious mood.

"Who?" Beth asked, taking the plate he still held, and placing it in the dishwasher for him. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel she paused, "Who do I remind you of?" Beth got that feeling of uneasiness in her gut, as though something important was about to be divulged.

Aaron looked from Beth to Eric, who seemed just as interested in what Aaron had to say. "Of Daryl's mother. I probably shouldn't say anything. But you do. Not exactly alike, because that would be weird," he chuckled lightly. "You have a way about you that is so similar. A kind nature. The old-soul eyes. Blonde hair."

Goosebumps formed on Beth's arms, swallowing the unexpected lump in her throat.

"He hasn't told me much about her."

Or anything at all.

"He will." Aaron reassured. "He has a lot of trust issues. His daddy made sure of that. He needs someone like you." He took another dish and ran it under the faucet.

Beth thought he was finished with the subject, but he looked back at her and spoke, an almost pleading sound to his voice, "Just don't give up on him. Give him time."

At a loss of words, Beth only nodded. It warmed her heart to know that Daryl had two people, even if they were the only two people in the world, that cared so much for him. They were obviously on his side. Everyone deserved someone to love them unconditionally.

. . .

"Aaron and Eric are great." Beth told Daryl as he drove them back to her house after dinner and a dessert of homemade chocolate cake. She was thoroughly and wonderfully stuffed.

"That they are."

Beth reached over and ran her fingers over the base of his neck up into his hair.

Whether he realized it or not, when she did this his head would tilt slightly forward allowing her better access.

"Thank you," she stated simply.

He glanced at her before returning his eyes to the darkening road. "What for?"

"For sharing that part of your life with me. For trusting me with it."

"Sure," was his answer, "I'm glad I did." And it surprised him that he was actually glad he had.

Driving up her driveway, he slid the truck into park, but left the engine running as he left the driver's side door open and made his way over to her door to open it for her. Beth slid off the seat and into his arms. Before either realized it, they were entwined in an embrace of heat and fire. Of wet kisses and quiet moans. Daryl's hands traveled down to her ass, cupping, he pulled her up, crushing her front to his so there weren't any questions on just how badly he wanted her.

Finally Beth pulled back, breathing heavily she asked. "Do you wanna come in?"

It still shocked him. That she was with him. And he wanted nothing more than to come in, slowly undress her, lay her down. Love her long and hard. Love her better than any half-assed man she had been with up till this point.

He lowered his head and gave her another kiss, "Yeah. Yeah I do wanna come in. But I'm not gonna. I have a way of royally fucking things up. And I don't want to fuck this up."

"Come on," she all but purred. Pulling Daryl along by his arm. Reluctantly he followed her up the steps and waited as she unlocked her door before entering.


	9. Chapter 9 - Acaronar

**Thanks again ivyandocean! Thank you everyone for reading/commenting!**

* * *

_**Acaronar:** (V.) to tenderly pull or draw someone closer, to hold, as for affection, comfort, or warmth; to embrace, to protect._

_. . ._

Standing frozen to the floor, he watched as she discarded her jean vest and went around the living room lighting candles with a long match. They seemed to be on every surface. She always had candles burning, he just never noticed how many there were until now as the room began to glow in yellow light, the heavy scent of vanilla wafted through the air.

Blowing out the long match, the white smoke swirled into the air. She placed the extinguished match into a silver bowl on the table and curled up on the couch. Patting the cushion next to her, her sultry voice echoed, "Don't worry, Mr. Dixon, your virtue is safe with me."

Forcing his legs to move, putting one foot in front of the other, until he finally arrived at the couch and bent his stiff legs until he sat next to her. Immediately she curled into him, instinctively he wound his arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently closer.

The heavy dinner, combined with the warmth of Daryl's body made Beth's mind slow and her eyes become heavy. Sighing she laid her head on his shoulder and he turned slightly, placing a kiss on the crown of her head. Closing his own eyes, allowing the the scent of her lemony shampoo fill his senses.

Beth's hand that she had rested on his knee began to slide up his thigh, stopping short of the crotch of his jeans and she shifted her face into his neck. He felt her breathe deep before the softness of her lips came into contact with the skin. A shiver ran through his body.

Angling toward him even more, she leaned up, running kisses further along Daryl's neck until she hit that sweet spot just behind his earlobe, then sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

Making a sound from deep within his throat, he growled out her name. "Beth."

"Hmm?" She asked, all innocence as she ran a tongue along his outer ear then back down along his jawbone. Backing away, she kicked her leg up over his lap, straddling him.

"Is there a problem?" She asked, reaching up and releasing her hair from the barrette. It fell around her face in soft waves and he couldn't help but reach up to either side of her head and run his fingers through, cupping the back of her head. Her eyes seemed to glow in the candle light. Vivid, radiating blue.

Taking a deep breath, Beth thought he may speak, but instead he pulled her face down to his and crushed his lips against hers. Moving in unison, he lifted her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and placed her gingerly on the couch. He found his place, as if he'd always belonged there, in the niche of her legs.

His hands roamed from her ass, up and around to her waist. Slowly, while one hand clung to her hip, the other cupped the mound of her breast. Small and firm. Beth arched, moaning softly against his lips.

As though acting of its own accord, his body betrayed him. His mind was screaming 'no', but all his body wanted was to feel the heat of her bare skin against his.

His arm went around to the small of her back and pulled her up closer, even closer if that were possible. His lips tore from her mouth and traveled along her jawline, down her neck, planting wet kisses with his tongue over her collarbone. Beth's head fell back, allowing him better access to her skin.

She tasted of sage and strawberries and he savored her skin with his tongue, reaching down he untucked her shirt and placed his hands along her ribcage, up her bare back, over her bra strap and before either realized what was happening the shirt came off up over her head. Leaning up on one elbow he looked down at her. A vision in candlelight.

And though her lips did not move, he heard her speak his name as clear as she had spoken the word aloud. Warmth radiated from her body penetrating his. Her fingers traveled to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, discarding it onto the floor with her shirt, her hands landing on his broad shoulders.

Skin to skin, she felt protection come from him. He wouldn't ever let any harm come to her. What harm may or may not come Beth didn't know, but she took solace in knowing he would be there for her. Slowly her hands drifted down from his shoulders, over his chest, over his belly, lightly following the trail of hair leading to his belt buckle, fingertips resting there momentarily.

"Uh, Beth?" Daryl said after pulling back from their mind numbing kiss.

"Yeah?" She asked, a little breathless.

"Before we get much further...I, uhh, don't have any condoms." He had meant to buy a box when he was at the quick stop last, just in case. But he didn't want to appear presumptuous, and right now he was kicking his own ass for it.

Placing his head on her bare shoulder, he mumbled, "I'm sorry. I didn't want you to think that's all I was after." So he didn't buy any condoms? That made no sense to him now, here in the moment, when all he wanted was to bury himself inside of her.

Beth let out a belly laugh, "I wouldn't think that. I obviously want it too."

He lifted his head to look down at her, slightly bewildered, "Really?"

"Well yeah, I'm the one tryin' to seduce you here."

Daryl sat up pulling her back onto his lap, "Oh really?" He chuckled.

Eyeing her, she was not in the least bit shy about her state of near undress. He kissed her hard and fierce, then just as quickly trailed kisses down her neck, cupping her breast, rubbing the nipple to a hard peak before pulling back the cotton fabric of her bra, bending to place wet kisses over her skin. Sucking her nipple into his mouth hard enough to make her arch and gasp in a breath.

His hands moved up and down her rib cage as he toyed with her mouth, reaching around behind her, he deftly unhooked her bra with one swift motion sending it to the ground behind her. His mouth growing more hungry, he returned to kissing her deeply as she wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in.

Snake strike quick, he flung her over his shoulder, eliciting a squeal from Beth. He walked down the small hallway with her bent over his shoulder as though she weighed nothing more than a sack of flour. Finding the bedroom he guessed to be hers. Even though he hadn't been in her room as of yet, he had the floor plan of the house figured out. Kicking the ajar door open, he took in the space.

The room was unequivocally Beth. An iron framed bed sat center stage, a down feather duvet covered it haphazardly. A top she had worn yesterday along with a pair of socks were discarded on the bare wood floor. An end table sat along one side of the bed, on top it held two books, a glass water bottle half full, a couple of candles and an antique looking lamp that was lit on low. Daryl loved that. He loved that she didn't like things pin neat. That she had a messy side.

Twinkle lights hung from the ceiling down the wall of the bed in lieu of a headboard. They, too, were lit giving the room the same yellowish warm glow the candles in the living room had. Tossing her onto the bed with an 'oof', her lidded eyes peered up to him, simmering and strong.

Wasting no time, he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, then slowly slid them down her long milky smooth legs. And again her unabashedness, her ability to bare all to him, save for tiny white cotton panties, astounded him. Leaning down, he placed a kiss to her mouth. "You're beautiful,"he whispered roughly.

She moaned his name as his mouth roamed lower, his tongue stroking over and under the slope of her breast. The pleasure and the passion streaked into her. His callused fingers glided over her skin. His hands grasped her hips and pushed her gently up onto one of the five pillows she kept on the bed. His hands cupped her ass again and the stiff hair of his chest sent pulling sensations through her nipples straight to her middle.

"Daryl," she said, "Daryl, maybe we should stop?" She didn't have any condoms in the house due to her recent stint as a nun. But stopping was the last thing she wanted to do. If they continued much longer, she didn't know if they would be able to stop.

"I dunno if I wanna stop," Daryl answered honestly. He'd never gone bare before, never even wanted to. Not with the majority of the women he'd had sex with anyway. Beth was different. She was soft, and gorgeous and the complete opposite of him.

Lifting his weight off her, laying on his side, his hands slid down her smooth stomach tracing the sensitive skin just above her panties. Maybe they'd have to wait to have sex. He knew it would be amazing when the time came. For now, though, there were other way to get what they both wanted.

It was a night of firsts for Daryl. First time bringing a girl to meet what little family he did have. First for not buying condoms because he wanted more than to just get laid, and now he wanted to please her more than he wanted himself pleased.

Kissing her deeply, his hand dipped lower under the band of her underwear, applying the slightest bit of pressure to her slit. She was warm, damp. He gently squeezed her mound. Her responding gasp was soft and yearning. Almost desperate. In the low light her skin glowed, her body perfection. Her breasts lay softly upon her chest, but the areolas were wrinkled and puckered with arousal. Her nipples were pink and hard.

Again, he wondered how he got so lucky. He didn't deserve this. No way, no how. Yet, here he was, watching this incredibly gorgeous woman writhing in ecstasy under the weight his touch. _His_ touch. Not some young pretty boy, but his touch. A rough and tumble redneck. The idea alone was enough to turn him on to the point of no return.

Parting her lips with his fingers, placing one calloused finger lightly to her clit, he had her arching her back, gasping out hot breath against his cheek. She pulled him down to her. Eyes focusing on his before rolling backward. Increasing the speed and friction of his fingers as she began to dampen. It wasn't too long before she was closing in on losing control in the best way possible.

A flash of memory echoed in his mind of that first night he had come to her house demanding she tell him how she knew his name. She had said, _The second card you chose representing your present was The Moon. It means longing._ He remembered how she leaned in, looking into his soul before asking, _What do you long for Daryl?_

Suddenly it became clear what he longed for. _This._ Her. He longed for Beth Greene, psychic, intuitive, all around amazing person. Before he had any time to think what any of this met for him, for them, Beth gasped loudly and clutched the wrist of his hand, coming hard around his fingers.

Once she stopped convulsing around his fingers and her breathing settled, Daryl swooped the cover up over her naked body, spooning her bare back to his naked front and held tight to her.

He thought maybe she had fallen asleep but her voice broke the silence, "I've never been with someone who made sex worth it for me. I know technically we didn't have sex, but every guy I've been with has only been interested in his side of things, not so much mine."

Daryl knew he had been like that too. It shamed him now. Still, getting Beth off all the while knowing he wouldn't get his was one the greatest turn on's he'd yet experienced. He was most definitely doing that again.

"Well, don't worry girly. It won't be the last time." Nope. This was a new beginning for Daryl. Beth had opened a whole new world for him.

After a moment, Beth shifted to her back looking up at Daryl. "Tell me about yourself. I loved meeting Aaron and Eric. It makes me want to know more."

"I don't know, Beth. I'm not good at this part. Talking and stuff. I'm better with my hands."

Beth swatted lazily at his shoulder making a 'pffft' noise with her mouth. "You're just fine. Now spill it."

"Well," he began sarcastically. "My name is Daryl William Dixon and I was born on Janurary 6th..."

"Daryl!" Beth punch him a little harder this time.

"Okay, okay," he said, giving in. "My dad was an asshole. Died about seven years ago. His body just kinda gave out after years of drinkin and druggin, I guess. Jus didn't wake up one day. My brothers sliding down that same road. But I don't know what to do about it. Or even if there is anything I can do about it. My Mama," here Daryl paused and looked away from Beth. The hair inexplicably stood up on the back of her neck.

When Daryl spoke again his voice was flat, unemotional, "She died when I was five."

"I'm sorry Daryl." And she truly was. Taking a chance in pushing him too far, but wanting desperately to know more, she asked, "How did she die?"

Daryl turned slightly, laying on his back staring up at the ceiling. Sliding his arm around Beth, she laid her head on his shoulder. "Accident of some kind. I was young. Don't remember much and no one ever talked about it."

Beth leaned up resting her chin on Daryl chest, looking up at him staring at the ceiling. He didn't fool her. She felt the pain in his body leaching through his skin and into hers.

"Never really needed to know. I mean, what's the point?"

Lie, Beth thought to herself, but she went with it.

Then, breaking Beth's heart, he said, "Don't change the outcome, does it?"

. . .

When Beth woke the next morning she was alone, though her body and the bed was still warm from Daryl. She smiled, burying her head into the pillow he had used, her face coming into contact with something smooth and cool. Lifting her face, a piece of scrap paper laid on the pillow. Written in chicken scratch were the words, "You're beautiful when you sleep, and you also snore. Be back later."

Laughing aloud. If he had written a romantic sonnet, she wouldn't of been more pleased. Shifting onto her back, closing her eyes, stretching her arms above her head, she turned to the other side of the bed. Contemplating staying there just a tiny bit longer, she opened her eyes, and stifled a scream when a woman's face floated next to her own. Backing up to the other side of the bed, a slight screech rising up from her throat. The woman now stood next to the bed. Beth forced herself calm, taking deep breaths. The woman looked strangely like her. Her eyes were a shade or two grayer than Beth's, prominent cheekbones, blonde hair flowing down her back.

The similarities were apparent, but the differences struck out like a sore thumb. The woman's woeful gray eyes were lost. Tired. Like she sometimes felt of Rosita. A tiredness sleep could never cure. The woman, the same woman that had appeared to her before, reached out her hand, her mouth opened, her graying lips forming noiseless words.

"What...what do you want?" Beth whispered.

No, this wasn't how she, a psychic, handled things. Still, this was new for her. She wasn't normally visited by ghosts in her bedroom. Clearing her mind, forcing the panic away, she listened. Listened to the voice inside her mind.

 _Love him._ The voice said.

Answering with her mind, Beth asked, _Love who?_

 _Please,_ the voice pleaded.

Then Beth, awaked with a start. Just as she had been before. Frightened, but forcing herself to look to her right where the woman had appeared before. Nothing was there but her bedroom. Then looked to the left. Daryl was missing, but the note sat on the pillow. Reaching for the crinkled paper, she knew exactly what it would say.


	10. Chapter 10 - Tweedled

_**Thank you so much ivyandocean for the help and turning my chapter into english. hahaha Thanks Rckyfrk for the reblog and encouragement! Thanks everyone that read and commented!** _

  _ **If anyone interested the song in this chapter is Admiral Fell Promises by Sun Kil Moon. Such a great Bethyl song.**_

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 _ **Tweedled**_ : _(V.) to be lured by music._

. . .

Beth was unnerved the rest of the day. Who was this woman, and why did she continue to visit her? Beth tried reading the cards to get a further idea on what the woman wanted, and that left her more confused than anything. She tried mediating. That just left her feeling more tired. Still, she continued with her day and her clients, focusing on them and what they needed.

So, she spent the day in a mix of euphoric disarray. Euphoric from her night with Daryl. Not just what he did, but spending the night in his arms was the closest to perfection she'd ever felt. Disarray because her mind was always preoccupied, two steps away from the ghostly woman.

Finally finished with the day, Beth pulled the band out of her pony-tailed hair and let her it fall down, running her fingers along her scalp where a headache brewed. Letting her hands drop to her hips, she stretched her back into an arch. Daryl should be here soon, that always lifted her spirits. And after last night, things seemed to be heading in the right direction. Whatever direction that was.

Even though Beth was psychic, she wasn't much of a planner and was certain to never look too far into her own life. One should never know too much about their own future. Sure, she had an idea of her future. Ever since she was young, she saw herself as an adult, standing in a patch of open grass, with a baby on her hip, while a child toddled around at her feet. Both towheaded little boys. A man stood off in the distance. Beth never knew if he was walking towards them, or away, but she felt an irresistible pull towards him.

Beth sighed. Of course, part of her wondered who that man was. It could be anyone. Her future was not set in stone. Was it Daryl? Beth knew she was getting ahead of herself. They had so much to learn of each other yet, to know of each other. But, when they were together it just felt _right_.

Needing a distraction, she stood in the middle of the living room. It was already getting dark, a walk was out of the question. She was drained, emotionally as well as physically so her legs did not want to dance. Instead, she retrieved her guitar from where it rested in the corner of the dining room. It had been too long since she played, and the guitar almost felt foreign in her hands.

Curling her feet under her, she sat in the middle of the couch and strummed, turning the tuners slightly. Then she began to play. And it all came back to her as though she had been playing everyday. Like breathing, it was just something that she did. Singing, playing guitar, it was part of who she was. And, like always, she wondered why she let such a long time pass before playing.

Strumming the strings, she played a few lines before she was interrupted by the door creaking open and Daryl stood looking expectantly at her. She rarely played in front of anyone. She wasn't sure she'd even told Daryl she played. The guitar sat there in the corner, but neither spoke of it.

"Don't mind me," Daryl mumbled, walking to the wide leather chair that sat adjacent to the couch.

"Oh, I'll just put it up." She said, speaking of the guitar.

"Na'. Keep singing," he gestured with his hand, crossing his right ankle of his left knee.

She knew it was silly to be nervous to play in front of Daryl, so she swallowed her nerves down and her fingers danced easily over the strings, her voice soft, yet strong.

 _Come out from the burning fire butterfly_  
_Let me lock you in my room and keep you_  
_For a while_  
_Could you be the answer to my every prayer?_

 _Could you be the one for who I care?_  
_Come into my arms and let your worries die_  
_Come out from the web of all your tangles lies_  
_But be true to me and I'll be true to you_

 _Judge me not for what I've done but what I'll do_  
_A million nights have led_  
_To this one that we are spending_  
_And I know it's better here_

 _Than anywhere I've been going_  
_With every morning grew_  
_A void more wide and endless_  
_Come out from the burning fire butterfly_

 _Let me lock you in my room and keep you_  
_For a while_  
_You watch over me and I'll watch over you_

When she paused and looked up to Daryl, her face flushed with emotion and uncertainty. She hadn't meant to play that song in particular, it just came out. The weight of the lyrics seemed to hang in the air like a heavy morning fog.

After what felt like an eternity, Daryl cleared his throat and asked, "Is there anything you can't do?"

Smiling, she sat the guitar on the couch and went to Daryl, sitting on his lap, linking her fingers behind his neck. His arms went around her waist tightly.

She looked up, thinking. "Umm...Pancakes. I can not, for the life of me, make pancakes."

Daryl chuckled, "Well maybe some morning I can make _you_ pancakes." His eyebrows lifted suggestively. Giving her a quick squeeze before he pulled back.

"Come on. Got something to show ya'."

"Outside?" Beth asked, confused.

"Yep."

At the door, Beth slipped on her off-brand Uggs, pulled on the oversized flannel jacket she kept hung on a hook by the door, and followed Daryl outside and watched as he went to his truck that was backed up to the lean-to next to the barn.

Holding her jacket closed against the chill with her crossed arms wrapped around her middle. "What do you think you're doin?" Beth yelled from the porch steps, looking out over the side yard as Daryl walked to the back of the truck.

Having reached into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, putting one to his lips, he lit it. The tip burned in the darkening light and he motioned for her to join him at the truck. Walking over to him, she saw the metal contraption hooked up to the hitch of the truck.

"A log splitter?"

"I got it workin, just for you babe." Daryl filled in.

Beth was thoroughly impressed. It was an old clunker of a contraption that sure would make her life a lot easier. Daryl's thoughtfulness caught her off guard. She wasn't sure what to expect when he said he had something for her, but this wasn't it.

"I don't think anyone's ever given me such a magnificent gift." Beth told him. And she was serious. Splitting wood by hand was not an easy job to say the least. "Ain't you the sweetest?" She crooned.

Good humouredly, he answered, "Yes, yes I am."

Daryl was taken back a bit. He hadn't expected her to actually like the log-splitter. He gave it to her because she needed it. He knew she would appreciate it because she wasn't an ungrateful person. But actually like it? No. He hadn't expected that. He also didn't expect the quivery feeling her smile gave him.

"Tomorrow I'll help ya' get the rest of this wood split." He said, inhaling smoke deep into his lungs in hopes of warding off the strange feeling giving a woman a log-splitter left him with. It didn't work.

"Daryl," Beth began, seeming to formulate the correct words, "You don't gotta help me. I can do it. Especially now that I have a splitter."

"I know you can do it. I jus' wanna help."

Beth's independence was beginning to wage a war with the possibility of allowing someone into her life. Someone that wanted, by all pretenses, to help her. "Really. It's fine..."

She had been on her own a long time. Moving out of her parents house at eighteen, just as soon as she finished high school. Going to college, working her way through. She left home not because she wasn't happy there. But because she wanted to be on her own. Independent.

Daryl was beginning to dispute her when his phone buzzed, taking it from his back pocket, he saw it was Shane. Ignoring it, he slid it back into his pocket. Before he bring his hand back around, though, it began to buzz over and over indicated he had a call. It, too, was Shane. An uneasy feeling ran through him and he thought it best he answer it.

Eyeing Beth who, though he couldn't explain how, seemed to share the same feeling. He pushed the green button the screen and answered with a "Yeah?"

"Hey, Daryl?" Shane asked.

"Who else would it be?"

"Yeah, yeah. I was wonderin' if you've seen Merle lately?"

"Seen Merle?" Daryl thought back to the last time he saw his brother. Last night he'd spent the night at Beth's, that evening they'd been at Aaron's. The night before that he hadn't seen him either. He'd been at Beth's till late. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if his truck was parked in its usual spot when he had finally gotten home. Truth was Daryl hadn't seen much of Merle since he'd started seeing Beth.

"He ain't shown up to work this week."

"This week? But it's wednesday."

"I know, that's why I called ya'. Wonderin' what's up. I ran past y'all's house. His bikes gone."

Merle not showing up to work was strange. Work was important to Merle because money to buy alcohol was important to Merle. Probably the most important thing. And Daryl had made it clear long ago Merle wasn't going to mooch off of him.

"You try callin' him?"

"Course I tried callin' him." Shane said, an attitude sharpening his tone.

"Okay, thanks for the call. I'll find him."

"Let me know if you need help."

"Yeah, sure." Daryl said before disconnecting the call.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Beth asked, though she knew from Daryl's end of the conversation that Merle had apparently went missing.

. . .

Beth insisted on riding along with Daryl to his house. And though he seemed reluctant, he'd agreed, not wanting to waste anytime. He said he hadn't seen Merle since last weekend. And according to Daryl, it was unusual for Merle to miss work.

As they pulled up his driveway, Beth took in the Dixon household. A peeling white sided two story house that leaned slightly to the left stood in the back of the property surrounded by large old trees. A garage with a newer roof, was where they kept their bikes.

When they parked, Daryl entered the garage but quickly returned, shaking his head. "His bike's gone." Just as Shane had said. Beth followed Daryl into the dank, dark house that definitely looked as though two bachelors lived there. Dishes piled in the sink. Beer cans stacked on the table.

Disappearing into a room off the living room, Daryl rifled through Merle's dresser. Beth didn't know how he would be able to tell if anything was out of place or missing. There were clothes strewn all over. Plates. Cups. Beer cans. An overflowing ashtray sat atop a wobbling tv tray next to the bed.

Daryl picked up an empty beer can and toss it to the floor, passing her in the doorway on the way back out to the living room. Sitting down on the dilapidated old couch he rested his elbows on his knees. Tossing his hat off onto the couch cushion next to him, he ran his hands through his hair.

"Maybe we should call the police?" Beth suggested, feeling helpless.

Sitting back, he asked, "And tell them what? That my alcoholic brother may or may not be missing?"

"I don't know..." Beth was at a loss, she felt so powerless. "Do you," she began, so hesitant because this could change everything, "Do you want my help?"

"Your help? What can ya'..." realization dawned on Daryl. "Oh. Can you? Can you help?"

"I can try." Sometimes, in instances such as this she could see where the person was, or where they went or what their state of mind was . Other times she got nothing. Some people were very understand when it came to this. Others, not so much. What if she couldn't find Merle, would it change everything? Make things awkward between them? Still, she had to try. If Merle was in danger, and she could help somehow or some way, she had to.

"Yeah. Sure, if ya' want." Daryl had no idea how this kind of thing worked so he stood, waiting expectantly.

Turning back to Merle's bedroom, Beth took a deep breath clearing her mind. She took in the sights, the unfortunate smell of stale cigarettes and beer, and waited...


	11. Chapter 11 - Brumous

**Thank you so much for reading/commenting. :)**

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_**Brumous:** (adj.) Of grey skies and winter days; filled with heavy clouds and fog, sunless weather. _

_. . .  _

Intense sadness hit Beth like a mac truck. The impact sending her backward a step. Daryl was up from the couch in a second and at her side. Not wanting to pick up his energy, she put her hand outward, palm up, she stopped him from touching her. Being brothers after all, they shared a lot of similarities and she didn't want to get what Daryl felt mixed up with what was happening with Merle. She already felt what Daryl was feeling; exacerbation, defeat mixed with an edge of fear. She had to keep that at a distance.

 

He stopped short, watching her closely - carefully. She took on a serious side he had yet to see. Her eyes sharp, clear. Focused on the task at hand. Even in the midst of this mess Merle had put him in, he was awestruck by her. He wished he could articulate what he felt for her, but he was afraid it would all come out a jumbled mess of garbled words and emotions. So, he took a step back and continued to watch.

 

Beth felt sadness and slight desperation. Searching for any information, for any clues that might shed some light on where the unease she felt was coming from. Her fingertips began to tingle. Somewhere in the periphery of her mind something swirled. A rush or flurry of activity. Of the need to get out. Go somewhere. Emotional pain surged through her veins, through Merle's veins, and she had fight the urge to flee. Just as Merle had.

 

Her eyes fluttered closed, grasping at what little this brief insight gave her. Speaking, her voice was little, far off sounding, "He had to get out of here. That's what he said 'I haveta get outta here.' He felt like he couldn't breath. He had to get out."

 

Beth walked into Merle's room. Stood at the bed, touched the half full beer can on the TV stand. Walked to the camping fold-out chair. "He picked up his jacket. Made sure his keys were in the pocket."

 

She then walked from the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she stood looking out the half window of the door. The light on peak of the garage cast long shadows in the darkness. The last of the leaves swirled around in the cold air. A high pitched scraping sounded as the branches of large sycamore blew against the siding of the house. The wind whistled as it passed through the cracks in the seam of the door.

 

At that moment a truck drove down the driveway, its headlights momentarily blinding Beth, forcing her squint. Daryl stood behind her, she felt his hopes rise.

 

"That Merle's truck?" She asked, her voice sounding more like her normal self rather than the flat emotionless tone she spoke with while describing what Merle was feeling.

 

Hopes rising, rising then dashing. "Shit. Na' that's Shane."

 

At the sight of Shane walking from his truck, shoulders hunched against the cold, with an internal 'woosh', it was all gone. Beth lost what little of Merle she had.

Quickly turning to Daryl, speaking before Shane made it to the door, her face filled with regret, she said "I'm sorry Daryl. That's all I have."

 

Taking her by the shoulders he squeezed reassuringly, but she felt, she  _ knew _ , he was disappointed. She felt as though she let him down. This came with the territory. Sometimes she saw things clear as day, other times her senses were more muddled, like looking through a fog. This was one of those times. Combined with the distraction of Shane, her concentration slipped away. 

 

She had been in high stakes situations before. A lost teenager. An illness that doctors couldn’t detect. A hundred different circumstances, yet it had never been so personal. She let down the one person in her life that seemed to accept her wholeheartedly.

 

She slipped from Daryl's arms and moved further into the kitchen to allow Shane admittance to the house. She stood in the shadow, her unease growing marginally.

 

"Gettin' cold out there," was Shane’s greeting to Daryl. "Any word yet?"

 

"Na', nothing. I can't really tell if anything's missin' in that shit hole room of his. But 

you were right, his bikes gone."

 

"I don't know where he'd be goin' in this weather. A storm's comin'." 

 

That much was right. Beth could feel the rain and thunder and darkness in her bones. Merle had probably been gone for days now and wasn’t thinking about the weather when he’d left. Wasn’t thinking about anything other than leaving.

 

"Do you wanna'," Shane began, but then caught sight of Beth standing in the corner near the stove. "What the hell she doin' here?" He asked rather indignant.

 

Daryl's hackles rose. "She's with me."

 

"That right? Well, hell, ain't we lucky we got a physic here with us."

 

"Shane." Daryl's one worded warning.

 

"Where is he?" Shane asked Beth, bitterness reverberating from his mouth. "Cain't you tell us?"

 

Daryl was on Shane in one lunge of his long legs, shoving Shane against the glass door, his forearm pressing against his neck. Daryl’s eyes had gone feral as he glared at Shane. "She's with me. And if you so much as look at her, I'll make you wish you didn't. Got me?"

 

Shane's eyes moved from Daryl to Beth and then quickly back to Daryl, nodding his head once. Daryl waited a beat for good measure then released him.

 

Shane gasped for breath and sheepishly looked down, rubbing his neck with his hand. After a moment, he asked, "Want to go drivin' 'round lookin' for him?"

 

Daryl thought this to be a good idea. Shane, more than anyone, knows all of Merle's haunts. And he didn't trust Shane to go himself. With Daryl's luck Shane would find him and together, Shane and Merle would continue on whatever bend Merle was probably on and Daryl would be left wondering. He didn't have many other choices. But he sure the hell wasn't going to let Beth go with them, not with Shane being...well, Shane.

 

As though reading his thoughts, which she probably had, Beth spoke up. "Ya'll go. I'll stay here incase he comes back. I'll call you if he does."

 

Unsure, Daryl mauled it over. How Merle would react coming home to Beth is anybody's guess. The chance of him actually coming home was slim to none, so he nodded his agreement, though hesitantly. 

 

"Yeah, okay." And then to Shane he said, "I'll be out in a second," dismissing him. 

 

Shane nodded and left the kitchen, going back out of his truck.

 

Daryl went to Beth, pulling her close, placing his hands on her hips. "Ya' sure you're okay with being here alone?"

 

"Yes," Beth said with a certainty she did not feel. But, this was about Merle. Not her. 

 

"I'll be here when you get back."

 

Those words were like a salve to his wounded sole. No one had ever had his back like she did. "Beth, I..."

 

She looked at him, eyes big and curious. Words failed him, so instead, he said, 

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you need anything."

 

Lifting up on her toes, she kissed him lightly, suddenly feeling inexplicably emotional, wanting to wrap her arms around him and make him stay, knowing full well he had to go.

 

. . .

 

Beth was left alone in the Dixon family home. She wondered what it was like for Daryl to grow up here. She felt an overboarding sense of sadness, of unshed grief. She wandered from the kitchen to the to the living room taking in her surroundings. 

 

An old sofa with a noticeable dip in the middle and torn fabric. A newer looking recliner was next to it, both pointing at a large screen television. Another topsey TV tray sat in between it and the sofa. Another overflowing ashtray. More empty beer and Coke cans. A narrow set of straight stairs leading up to the second level were to the right of the couch, tucked into the wall.

 

At the end of the hallway leading out from the living room, was a bathroom next to that, maybe, another bedroom. She couldn’t be sure as the door was closed. She was a tiny bit scared to explore what was behind that closed door. A touch of her palm told her it wasn’t Daryl’s room, but was once his father's. 

 

Still, she was tempted to snoop. Her mother's voice sounded in her head telling her  _ "don't you dare girly."  _ So, having to do something, anything, she went back to the kitchen and looking under the sink in the cabinet, she found a roll of trash bags. Pulling one off the roll, she went back through the house collecting trash and beer and pop cans.

 

With everything she touched, a vibration echoed through her body straight into her thoughts. She did her best to decipher between what might be important and what wasn't. What might help them find Merle and what was just remnants of him living there. 

 

By the time she had the lower half of the house cleaned of trash, the floor swept, magazines that were everywhere about everything from girls in bikini's -at least they weren't naked, Beth supposed rolling her eyes - to trucks and motorcycles straightened into a pile. Dirty clothes that were strewn about here and there, put into a clothes basket - placed on the back porch where the washer and dryer was, because she was  _ not _ going to do their laundry - she was exhausted. Emotionally and physically.

 

It was a lot later than she had expected Daryl to be. She resisted the temptation to text him and tried not to overthink why he hadn't texted her. Her overactive, overstimulated brain told her it was because she couldn't help him further finding Merel. What's the point of having a psychic girlfriend if she couldn't even help you locate your brother. What good was she? Rolling her eyes once again, she sighed and sat down on the recliner. Daryl didn’t feel that way. Right?

 

Sighing, she stared at the blank television screen, her thoughts wandering to what Daryl did before he met her. He spent the majority of his time with Beth when he was not working or sleeping. Is this what he did? Hung out with Merle and watched TV? Watching his brother drink his life away? As she thought, her head resting on her fist, her elbow resting on the arm rest, her eyes began to grow heavy.

 

. . .

 

Shane and Daryl had been to all of Merle’s haunts, both old and new. Bars, old girlfriends houses. Places he scored at. Daryl wasn't even aware Merle was using heavy drugs. Weed to mellow him out, speed to make it through the work day, the occasional acid trip? Yes, all of that. But apparently he had been getting into heavier stuff, with Shane along for the ride. Daryl swallowed his anger, he'd deal with that later. First he had to find Merle, make sure he was alive and well, and then he'd kill him for his stupidity. 

 

Truthfully he just wanted to get home to Beth. Of course, he wanted his brother, but what could he do for him? Force him into rehab? Make him get clean. That'd go over about as well as giving a cat a bath. Leaving Beth wasn't the best choice, it was the only choice he had at that moment. He didn't want to waste any more time. The sooner they found Merle, the better.

 

As time went on, though, and they ran out of places to search, Daryl's anxiety began to increase. Was he his brothers keeper? When their mother died, Daryl was only five. Merel was twelve. He tried to father him as best he could. Taught him how to hunt, fish, trap. Taught him things he needed to know to survive. Merel was harsh and hard, still he watched over Daryl. As Daryl grew older, there came a shift between the two of them. Slowly  _ he _ began watching out for Merle.

 

Now though, he was about through with that shit. He wanted a life. He wanted a life with Beth he realized with sharp clarity. A life without the baggage of Merle.

 

Could he have both? His drug addicted alcoholic brother  _ and _ Beth? And what did it mean to have a life with Beth? First things first, though. He had to find Merle, then he would think about what it meant for him to have a life with Beth.

 

. . .

 

The fog hung in the air, thick and heavy. Damp. Shivering, Beth pulled her jacket closer to her. Turning in a circle, the blackness surrounding her was more than just the absence of light, it was impenetrable. Her breath puffed out in a white cloud with each exhale. The ground beneath her crunched from the frost encapsulating the blades of grass. The wind was sharp and bitter, blowing her hair every which way, covering her eyes, distorting her view.

 

Panic brimmed just below the surface. Where was she? How’d she get here? Reaching up, holding her hair back trying to see something. As far as she could see there was only inky blackness. Knowing she souldn’t be surprised when she heard the woman's voice, still she began to shake even more. Refusing to be frightened, she stood rigid, waiting for the woman to show herself to her.

 

And when she didn't, it pissed Beth off. Speaking loudly and firmly to the spirit she said, "Show me yourself. I'm 'bout done with this cryptic bullshit. You got something to say. Say it." Beth flushed slightly, knowing the ridiculousness of yelling at a dead person, but this situation was growing more ludicrous by the second.

 

To her surprise, the woman appeared in front of her, seeming to form out the misty dark. A coy smile played across the woman's lips.

 

"What do you want?" Beth demanded.

 

The woman seemed more alive than she had up to this point. Still ghostly and translucent, yet Beth could see her beauty, the life she maybe once held. Her eyes were familiar. Distant and sad, yet familiar. They gave comfort to Beth. So, when the woman reached a pale hand out to her, she didn't flinch when the icy cold fingers came into contact with her cheek, stroking affectionately. The woman smiled warmly, approvingly. Tears, shone in her eyes.

 

"What is it?" Beth asked more kindly. She felt her sadness. Her desperation. Her love for something once lost.

 

The woman brought her hand back, and with a slow swoop of her arm, the darkness was gone and bright light showed Beth what she needed to see.

 

. . .

 

Beth woke with a start, momentarily confused about where she was. Remembering, she was at Daryl's and must of dozed off, she quickly fumbled for her phone in her back pocket and dialing Daryl's number, her heart pulsing quickly through her chest.

 

When Daryl picked up on the third ring she didn't wait for his greeting and blurted out, "I know where Merle is."


	12. Chapter 12 - Zemblanity

**Thanks for the those are are reading, and leaving comments, and reblogging on Tumblr. I so appreciate everyone's interest. :)**

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_**Zemblanity:** (n.) The inevitable discovery of what one would rather not know. _

 

"Look, if she said he's here then he's here. Just shut up and keep lookin'." Daryl told Shane, shinning his flashlight in and out of the tombstones looking for his brother.

"Ain't you a little freaked that we're at a cemetery at night in the middle of a storm?" Shane asked, his voice rising to be heard over the rain that beat down on them.

"If you're scared Nancy, you can go wait in the truck I ain't leaving here without my brother."

"I was just sayin it's a little freaky." Shane retorted, mollified.

Daryl didn't care if Shane stuck around or not. His main priority was Merle. When Beth called him, just as they'd given up and were heading back home, she said with certainty that Merle was here at Horvath's Cemetery. It made sense to Daryl, he wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it himself.

This was where their mother was buried.

"She didn't happen to say where he was located in the cemetery did she?" Shane asked and Daryl shot him a look that penetrated the dark. Shane shot up a hand in retreat. "Just askin.' This cemetery is huge."

It was huge as it was the only one in town. Anyone who lived in King County in the last hundred years probably had a relative buried here. He personally hadn't been here in years. The last time being when Merle dragged him here when he was a teeanger. Unlike Daryl, Merle came here on their mother's birthday and the date she died. Every year. When Daryl noticed the date on his phone after speaking to Beth, it was like a punch in the gut. It was the day his mother died and he didn't even remember. What kind of son did that make him? And to make him feel worse, it had been so long since he'd been to the cemetery that he couldn't remember where exactly she was buried. In and out of the rows they wound, looking for a Merle and subsequently, probably, their mother's grave.

The wind was cold enough, but when you mixed it with sharp little droplets of rain, it was a pretty miserable night to be doing what they were doing. As far as Daryl was concerned he didn't' have a choice. He owed his brother this, he owed his mother too.

A lump formed in his throat as they rounded yet another row of tombstones and on the ground a few stones down the line was a slumped over figure, something that shouldn't be there. He flashed the beam of his flashlight over it and instinctively he knew it was Merle.

"Merle," he yelled, rushing to him, Shane on his heels. Reaching him, he was laying on the cold wet ground, his head resting on his forearm, passed out cold.

"Merle what the fuck are you doin' here?" He asked, shaking him by the shoulder. When he didn't rouse, he shook him harder. He stirred then, mumbling, his eyes opening to red rimmed slits before closing again.

"Come on, help me get him up." Daryl said to Shane, pulling Merle up by his leather cutt. Once they had him up, an arm under each of his arms on either side of him, they made the slow walk back to the truck. By the time they got there, Merle had stirred a little more and was talking nonsense in slurred speech. He and Shane pushed and pulled him up into the middle of the bench seat of his truck. Merle opened his eyes fully under the dome light. Focusing on Daryl.

"She jus' left us." He spoke with a whine to his voice. Sadly, pathetically. "Why?"

Waiting on Shane to get situated, placing the flashlights back in the glovebox and fastening his seatbelt, Daryl asked Merle, "Who? Who left you."

"Na' man, she left _us_."

A chill broke over Daryl's arms and it had nothing to do with the cold weather.

"Who's he talkin' 'bout?" Shane asked Daryl.

"Probably just some old girlfriend." Daryl explained, gunning the engine the life as Merle slumped again, leaning his head on Daryl's shoulder.

. . .

Beth stood at the kitchen door, anxiously waiting Daryl's return. Waiting on them to be sure Merle was okay, of course, but also waiting to see if Daryl would look at her differently now that he knew, he completely grasped, what it meant that she was psychic. Although, tonight, it'd probably be the last thing he was thinking about. His concern was with Merle. Not her. As it should be.

Headlights shined through the window as Daryl's truck drove down the drive, windshield wipers going full speed whipping across the windshield. Beth opened the door for them, the rain falling slantways with the wind, making her flinch. She watched as Daryl and Shane practically carried Merle from the truck to the kitchen. Moving out of their way, she closed the door once they were inside, and carried him straight to his room.

Tentivally Beth followed, her hands clasped in front of her. She watched as they slipped their arms from under his and Merle gently fell backwards onto a raggedy yellowed pillow. He was passed out cold, his mouth lolling open, a soft snore sounding from deep in his throat.

"He'll be fine. Just needs to sleep it off." Was Shane's assumption of the situation.

"Yeah, I got it from here." Daryl told him. "I'm sure he will call ya' once he's back on his feet."

"Call me if there's a problem." Shane told Daryl, not waiting on a reply he scooted around the bed, and taking a moment to leer at Beth he disappeared through the kitchen, the door clicking on his exit.

Daryl bent at Merle's feet, and began unlacing his muddy boots, tossing one then the other into the corner with a loud thud. Beth's body jerked at the sound. Then he wrestled him out of his cutt. He was at least wearing a hooded sweatshirt under it, but it was soaked to through, so he began trying to wiggle it above Merle's head without much luck.

"Here, let me help." Beth said, and kneeled on the other side of the bed. "Like this," she instructed. Pulling at the sleeve, until Merle's arm fell out. Daryl did the same, and together they were able to get the sweatshirt up over his head, a still unconscious Merle fell back onto the pillow. The t-shirt he wore underneath was at least dry.

Speaking softly, though she wasn't worried about waking Merle, she asked, "You don't believe what Shane said, about Merle being fine?" She didn't need to ask, she just knew. Like she knew a million other things about Daryl and his state of mind. She thought maybe he'd feel better if the spoke of exactly how he felt.

Daryl sat down on the bed then, her back to him, resting his elbows on his knees he ran a hand through his wet hair. He hadn't allowed himself to feel anything once they found Merle. Not the cold or the rain. Not how worried he was about his brother. He just went into brother mode. Get him home, get him to bed, assess how bad a shape he was in.

"I'm so tired of this." Daryl said, sounding exhausted.

Beth rounded the bed and stood in front of him, overcome by his vulnerability. Resting his hands on the backs of her thighs, he laid his head on Beth's middle and she ran her fingers through his hair. "How can I have a life if I always have Merle hanging on me like some damn parasite."

Beth knew he didn't feel that way, at least not really, he was frustrated with the circumstances. "Because he's your brother. And you can't turn your back on your blood."

Looking up at her, his fierce blue eyes darkened in the dim light searching her own. "Just like that?" He asked.

Beth nodded once, "Yes. Just like that."

He looked so worn out, so exhausted Beth's heart broke a tiny bit. She knew he didn't want to _feel_. Didn't want to feel anything for Merle, and he couldn't figure out why he still did after all this time.

Pulling him up by his hand, Beth pulled him to his feet. "Come on. You need to get some rest."

"You can go home, take my truck," he said, reaching into his pocket for the keys.

"No way." She shook her head. "I'm stayin' here with you."

"Beth," he said, exasperated. He was giving her an out, why wasn't she taking it?

"Daryl," Her tone serious. "I ain't leaving you."

Together they made their way up the narrow stairs to his room. Daryl mumbled an apology for the mess of the room once he gave a yank of the pull cord in the center of the ceiling and light a little too bright, filtered through the room. She didn't think it was messy at all. Just a normal bedroom with a bed, a dresser, and old as Moses shag carpeting. No rickety TV tray and no overflowing ashtray she noticed with marginal relief.

Daryl went to his dresser and pulled out a t-shirt that was neatly folded and handed it to her. "You can sleep in this if you want."

Nodding she took the shirt from him and began pulling off her sweatshirt. It was silly but she was appreciative when he turned his back to her to give her a meconium of privacy. He had seen her naked in more ways than one. His respect for her, his acknowledgement that even though they'd been intimate that didn't mean she was there solely for his viewing pleasure.

Once the shirt was on, smelling of Tide laundry soap and Daryl, she cleared her throat. He had shed his shirt and jeans as well, laying down on his bed with a groan. Adjusting the pillow next to him he looked at her expectantly and it was all the invite she needed, she gladly climbed onto the bed and laid down next to him. Bypassing the pillow, she laid her head down on his shoulder instead.

"I wanna' check on Merle every hour or so. I'll set my alarm to vibrate, so's I don't wake you up," he said as he fiddled with the alarm on his phone and sat it on the mattress next to his pillow.

Sighing, tangling her fingers in the edge of his hair, she said, "You're really good to him."

Daryl shrugged, pulling the old quilt up over their bodies, "I don't know 'bout that."

"You are," she spoke earnestly. Lifting her head, she placed her lips to his, silencing any rebuttal he may have.

. . .

Beth felt Daryl's phone vibrate a couple times and felt him get out of bed, and then climb back into bed. Each time placing his arms around her, hugging her body to his. Sleepily, Beth thought she could get used to this. Sleeping with Daryl's arms tightly wound around her every night. In her sleepy haze she almost, almost, forgot Merle was downstairs sleeping off whatever he'd put into his body.

When she woke next Daryl did not move to silence the alarm on his phone. He was laying on his back, mouth slightly open, snoring quietly. Obviously exhausted from the evening and the night he'd had. Affection swelled in her chest for him. Beth picked up his phone, pressing the stop button on the screen, noticing it was five in the morning.

Figuring Merle would still be passed out, she thought she would sneak down and check on him, giving Daryl a much needed break. Ever so quietly, she climbed out of bed and slipping her jeans back on, she made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The kitchen light was still on, shedding light into the living room, leading her way. Merle's door was halfway open and she stood, listening quietly. She didn't hear him. It was quiet. Too quiet, though? Beth didn't know. Pushing the door open, slowly, praying it wouldn't creak. She saw the shadowed lump on the bed, but didn't see his face. Walking closer and closer until she stood over his bed.

He grumbled and Beth started to make her retreat when he moaned, "Wait..."

_Busted._ She turned and peered down at him. "Uhh, Merle," she began, wondering if he was just talking in his sleep. But through the light reflecting from the kitchen, she saw his eyes were open. Tired, confused, peering up at her.

"Why did you leave?" He mumbled, his voice hoarse with misuse.

"Leave? I'm here. I've been here." She leaned down closer to him. She was unsure why tears burned in her eyes. The heavy sadness she had felt since the moment she stepped foot in the house overcame her. Lost hopelessness pulsated off of Merle, penetrating her.

"Mama?" Merle moaned.

Aarons words came back to her then. Did Merle, in some sort of drug or alcohol induced hallucination, think she was their mother? "No, I'm Beth," she corrected in a watery voice. "I'm with Daryl."

"How could you leave Daryl? He's so little. So helpless."

Beth had no idea what was going on, but she felt it beginning to escalate as Merle lifted a weak arm, clasping her wrist.

"I'll go get Daryl. You just rest here." Beth told him, pulling away.

Thankfully he let her arm drop but not before what Merle felt coursed through her veins. She backed out of the room, bumping into Daryl's broad chest. Jumping, she stifled a squeal that bubbled up from her throat.

This time it was Daryl that grabbed her wrist. A little stronger than Merle had seconds before.

"What are you doin' down here?" He questioned sharply.

"You were asleep, I just thought I'd come down and check on Merle for you," she explained her voice carrying the hard edge of defensiveness. "He's drank a lot. Got a hold of some bad Crack. It made him freak out. But he's going to be fine." Yes, he was going to be fine after he sobers up, after that it was anybody's guess whether he would stay sober or not. 

"How do you know all that? He tell you?"

She could've lied. Who knows if Daryl really wanted to know anyway. It's not like Merle would remember anything from this. Her Mother raised her better though, and she stood straight and said, "I just know."

Daryl looked at her skeptically. 

"Daryl?" Merle questioned from the bed. Beth felt for him, he was probably hungover. Confused. Startled by the strange woman in his bedroom.

Rounding Daryl, Beth left the room. Leaving him to deal with Merle, lest she cause more confusion. As she retreated back upstairs she heard Daryl's soft mumbles through the floor. Once upstairs she slipped off Daryl's shirt, refolding it and placing it on top of the dresser, she put her shirt back on and sat, waiting, on the mattress for Daryl to return.

Her thoughts ran wild. There was something to this, she _knew_ it. It was like a word you couldn't recall but it was on the tip of your tongue. Or a thought you couldn't quite grasp but kept gathering the pertinent information to piece all the parts together. 

And her thoughts went to her last boyfriend, Zach. Things had been going well. He was a little reluctant about her powers, but as long as they didn't discuss it everything was fine. Then Beth met his sister, Shannon. Shannon was sick, obviously so sick. Beth felt it, just like she felt everything else, deep down in her bones. She felt compelled to tell Shannon she must seek a doctor. Zach did not like this and told her so in not so many nice words. Nevermind that Shannon did go to a doctor and she was, in fact, very sick, but the doctors were able to help her. They were able to save her life. It was too late for her and Zach. He continued to look at her with disgust and refused to ever speak to her again. 

Beth came to conclusion that it was worth it if it helped Shannon.

Now, she felt so much more was at stake. She felt for Daryl more than she had ever felt for Zach. She was afraid Daryl might now look at her the way Zach had. 

After what seemed like forever, she heard Daryl climbing the stairs and she stood as he came through the doorway an apology already sounding from her mouth.

Before she could speak, Daryl said, "I'll give ya' a ride home. Seems like Merle'll make it."

"Oh, okay. Ya' sure?"

"Yeah," he said without looking at her he swooped down to retrieve his jeans from the floor and pulled them on. Patting the pocket where the keys to his truck were.

They were silent on the way home. The skies were dark blue as the raising sun reflected off the evaporating storm clouds. The tires made a hissing noise on the wet pavement and the radio was turned down low on some NPR station. Beth watched as the trees hummed by. At her house, Daryl made no move to kiss her before she hopped out of the truck and jogged up to the porch. Watching him through the door, Daryl backed out of the driveway leaving her feeling empty and alone.


	13. Chapter 13 - Novaturient

**Thank you for reading and commenting and sharing my story. I really appreciate every single one of you. :)**

 

_**Novaturient:** (adj.) Desiring or seeking change in one's life, behavior or situation. _

. . .

"I'm sorry Rosita. I just can't help you today. I can't concentrate." Beth said, defeated. She opened her eyes to Rosita looking expectantly at her sitting cross-legged in the oversized chair of her office. Thankfully she didn't appear upset or angry. Just perplexed. Beth had never not been able to read for Rosita before. She was like an open book, Beth was almost able to read her without any concentration. Not today, though.

Pursing her lips, Rosita cocked her head to the right. "You okay? You seem, I don't know, distracted?"

Beth chuckled humorlessly. You could say she was distracted. It had been three days, three whole days, since Daryl had dropped her off and she hadn't heard from him since. To be fair, she hadn't contacted him either figuring he was busy with Merle. But still...how long did it take to send a text message? Her hurt feelings were turning into irritation.

"I'm just tired, I guess," Beth explained lamely. She had slept well in Daryl's arms. If she tried hard enough, she could still feel his body next to hers. The way he held her so tightly, or was it she that snuggled up against him and he just went along with it, she wondered second guessing herself. She honestly wasn't sure now.

Rosita's beautiful chestnut eyes squinted at Beth as though she were the one that read thoughts. "Oh, sister. You got man troubles, dontcha?"

Beth didn't have to answer, as her eyes filled with tears.

"Don't look so surprised. Not all of us are psychic, some of us just have a woman's intuition about these things. And, honey, I've had more than my fair share of man troubles so I know what it looks like."

Rubbing at her eyes with loose fists, Beth fought the tears that burned to flow freely. "I just don't know what do," she admitted. "I have this power," she gestured with her hands. "This...this _gift_ ," she scoffed. She knew she could speak freely in front of Rosita, the closest she had to a friend other than Maggie. "I can help people. Really help them, ya' know?"

Rosita nodded. "You _do_ help people."

"But all it seems to do is cause me pain." Beth slumped in her seat, sniffling away the tingle in her nose. "Sometimes I wish I could just put it away. This ability I have. Just box it up and hide it on a high shelf somewhere. Only taking it out when _I_ want to rather than being this bubbling brook of emotion and feelings and knowledge."

"Oh, don't say that, I don't believe you really feel that way." Rosita implored. " There's a reason you are able to do this."

"How can you be so certain?"

"'Cause I am." She said with assuredness.

"It just seems like more of a hindrance. When Daryl..."

Rosita perked up. "Daryl? Daryl Dixon?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"I do. We grew up together. Well kinda'. Our daddy's were friends. More like drinking buddies. He didn't like my Mother though, her being hispanic."

Internally Beth rolled her eyes, the downfall of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone. Deciding to confide in Rosita, she went on. "We were, are, seeing each other." _Seeing each other_? It felt like so much more than that.

Rosita sat back, rather stunned. "Really?" She asked, splitting the word into its two syllables; 'real-ly'. Then she leaned in, all ears.

Beth didn't trust many people easily. Moving around after graduation left little time for close friendships, and admittedly she did it that way on purpose. She figured it was time for that to change. She liked it here. The majority of the people that lived here either kept their distance or seemed to just accept her for who she was. She could trust Rosita, she'd known her for a long time now and so she told her everything. Well, almost everything. About using her powers to help find Merle, about Shane's leering, about Merle thinking she was his mother, about Daryl's distance in the last few days.

They had migrated to the kitchen by then and sat at the whitewashed scared table, steaming mix/matched mugs of tea in front of them. Rosita listened intently until Beth was finally through and took a deep breath, slumping against the back of the bright pink chair.

"Shane's just a perv, think's he's God's gift to women. I wouldn't worry too much about him. But keep your distance, for sure. And as far as Merle goes, you were just trying to help find him. What were you supposed to do? _Not_ tell Daryl where he was?"

"No, that would've made it worse," Beth conceded.

"And you were just trying to help by checking on Merle. How were you supposed to know how he'd react to you. You couldn't have known. Well, other than the whole being psychic thing."

Rosita looked at Beth and both women broke into a cackle of laughter. If it wasn't so true, Beth probably would've began crying again. She desperately needed that laugh.

After their laughter died down, a comfortable silence fell over them. After some time, Rosita, speaking into her mug more to herself than Beth, said, "It was weird how she just disappeared like that."

That had Beth's attention, "Disappeared? Who disappeared?"

"Daryl's mother. What was her name? Melody? Yeah, I think that's it."

"She died. Daryl's mother died," Beth tried to clarify.

Rosita peered at Beth over her mug, a perfectly manicured eyebrow raising up into her smoothly swooped bangs. "Is that what Daryl said?"

Thinking back on their conversation in bed that night. "Yes. He said she died when he was five."

"Hey, I might be wrong," Rosita backpedaled, afraid she had said something that she shouldn't have. "I was a baby when it happened. I'm just going by what I've heard over the years. People like to talk and a lot of times they like to embellish when they talk."

Ultimately, after her and Rosita's talk, Beth did feel better. Even if nothing was really resolved. Talking things over, getting it off her chest and out into the open really helped elevate at least some of the stress she felt was bogging her down. She was appreciative of Rosita's sound, no nonsense way.

At the door, Beth smiled at Rosita and said, "Come back in a couple days, we'll try again on your reading."

Rosita shrugged it off, "No biggy. And don't worry. Give Daryl time," she said, echoing Aaron's words. "He never seemed like much of a talker to me. And if he's worth a hill of beans, he won't let a great girl like you go."

"Thank's Rosita," Beth said, reaching her arms around Rosita's shoulders, enveloping her in a bear hug. And when Rosita wound her arms around Beth in return, a familiar vibration ran through Beth centering in her womb.

Beth pulled back with a gasp, "You're pregnant."

. . .

So, she was able to help Rosita after all. She wasn't far enough along for a pregnancy test, but just had a feeling she might be and so she had gone to Beth. Abraham and Rosita were excited at the prospect of another child and Rosita claimed Abe was doing much better since he'd gotten that job. Beth hoped things would continue to go in a positive direction for them.

Sitting down with her laptop, fighting the urge to curl up in bed and take a nap, she opened up her email and went through those. Answering what needed to be answered, ignoring what didn't interest her. She perused Facebook and a few other websites she frequented often before finally giving into temptation and opening a new webpage. Beth snorted sarcastically. Oh, the irony of a psychic using google search.

She had no business snooping into Daryl's past. Just as she had no business reading people without their permission. Still, against her better judgement, into the google search bar she typed in 'Melody Dixon, King County, Georgia'. She received a few hits on different versions of Melody Dixon through an address look-up website, bypassing that and the Facebook hits (who knew there were so many Melody Dixon's?) and scrolled further down the page until she stumbled across a link to the county's only newspaper. Clicking the link, the website opened to a page for obituaries.

Taking a steadying breath, she floated the cursor over the link and clicked on her name. A scanned image of an obituary appeared in a new tab.

_Melody Dixon, 33, of King County, passed away at her home on December 1st, 1986. She was born on June 3, 1953 to Sherman and Louisa Jimmerson and worked at Quality Tire Recyclers since she was eighteen. She is preceded in death by her father and a brother, Kurt. She is survived by her husband, William Dixon and two sons, Merle and Daryl. A closed funeral will be held at Hovert Cemetery._

_Huh_ , Beth thought. Short and to the point, which left her unsettled. And sad, her heart breaking for young Merle and Daryl.

Going back to the main webpage of the newspaper, in the search bar at the top of the page, she typed in Melody's name. An article surprisingly popped up dated two months after the obituary date. Its title printed in bold black letters read, "Questions Asked Regarding Death of King County Mother of Two."

Hesitating whether or not to click on the link, Beth's brain was telling her no while her heart, and her curiosity, got the better of her. She closed her eyes and clicked the link with a pounce of her index finger.

When she opened her eyes, another scanned image appeared in front of her. This one with a photograph. Though the photo lacked color there were striking resemblances to herself. Same bone structure, same long light colored hair. About the same height. While they weren't twins, she could see why Merle while barely awake and probably still intoxicated could think she was Melody. She guessed...

Remembering Merle's pained voice. His words, his questions as to why she left them. Instantly she was struck with a pang of guilt. She had no business snooping into Daryl's past. If he wanted her to know he'd tell her. Right? And they hadn't been seeing each other all that long. Maybe if she gave it time he'd want to tell her. And if she _did_ read the article, and he _did_ end up telling her, what would she say then? _Oh, I already know about that?_ That wouldn't do. Not at all.

Reluctantly, she exed out of the webpage and closed the laptop. Ultimately resolute in her decision. No matter her curiosity, it was the right thing to do.

Standing, she placed her laptop where she stored it on the bookshelf, and decided she also wouldn't allow Daryl to pull away. He wasn't escaping her grasp that easily. They had something, the two of them. Something, uncommon, special. She wanted very much to continue this, whatever it was, to see where it went. Picking up her cell phone from where it sat on the end table, Beth brought up his number. Before she had a chance to call though, she heard the familiar rumble of a truck.

Beth met Daryl at the door, pulling it open before he even made it up the steps. If that made her seem desperate, then so be it. She _was_ feeling a tiny bit desperate. So many thoughts and feelings swirled around in her mind leaving her feeling unsettled. Wordlessly, Beth stood off to the side, allowing Daryl admittance, shutting the door behind him.

Unfortunately she still felt the distance she had the morning he dropped her off. He stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, not speaking, staring at those damn boots of his. At least he was here. And that said something.

Breaking the silence, she asked, "How's Merle?"

A small smile played on Daryl's lips. "Hung over." Then he added, "Still."

She wandered over to the bookshelf, pushing a book into alignment with the others. "That's too bad."

"Eh, he'll be okay," Daryl said with a shrug of his shoulders.

His broad, sexy, magnificently manly shoulders.

Becoming irritated with herself, with Daryl, with the whole situation in general, she left him standing in the living room and retreated to the kitchen where Rosita and her own empty mugs sat. Picking up one mug, then the other, she carried them over to the sink and, even though she would normally leave them there until she had a few more dishes to wash, she poured soap onto a dishrag and began scrubbing them. Acting as though this was the most important thing for her to do right at that very moment.

Beth didn't hear Daryl's footsteps leave the living room, walk though the dining room and enter the kitchen but without warning, he was behind her, running his hands over her shoulders, down her bare arms and intertwined his fingers with hers, forcing her to drop the mug. It bounced around in the soapstone sink. The silky smoothness of the hot soapy water ran over their hands as Daryl's fingers brushed along the outside of Beth's hands. Goosebumps speckling the skin of her forearms spreading upwards as his lips came into contact with the delicate skin behind her ear. His hot breath fanned over her cheek as he whispered the words, "Baby, I'm sorry."

Oh, how she wanted to give in. Just turn into him and allow him to drag her under his spell. Locking her knees, she refused to allow that to happen just yet. Not until he at least tried to explain himself.

"For what?" She asked, her voice coming out a little bit more breathy than she anticipated.

"The way I treated you. After what you did to help Merle." Waiting a bit, he buried his face into neck and she felt him breathe deeply. Releasing her hands, he reaching up and switched off the faucets. "Would ya' just turn around?"

She obliged his request turning into him, placing her wet hands behind her on the lip of the counter. Leaning into Beth, his hands automatically covered hers again. His body pushed against hers, hers pushed against the sink.

"I didn't handle things well. Merle's just such a fuckup. I'm sorry. I don't want to make this about him. To blame him for my mistakes. I just don't know how to do both. How to have a life, but still have Merle."

"You can, I know you can," she reassured. "I'd never ask you to choose between me and him."

"Ya' sayin' we can figure this out?" He questioned, a slight uptick in his deep sonorous voice.

Beth wasn't a pushover, but he came here. He apologized, something she guessed wasn't easy for him. Seeing him this way, with his slumped shoulders. He was obviously sorry. "Yeah. Together." Then to be sure he understood, she added, "You can't just flake on me like that. Ever again."

"I won't. I swear."

There, those four words made it all better. Well, not _all_ better. But pretty damn close.


	14. Chapter 14 - Selcouth

**Well, I'm not much of a smut writer. So forgive me if this is awkward or clumsy. But I wanted to get this out for you all. And there's not a cliffhanger! (Or smuthanger!) Thank you for reading/commenting and sharing.**

* * *

 

_**Selcouth:** (adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet marvelous. _

_. . ._

"Wait...wait." Beth pulled back abruptly, pushing herself away from Daryl before his kiss pulled her too far under his spell. Which, with no doubt, would be so, so easy to let happen.

A sound came from deep within his chest. Not one of anger, but one of wanting. "What? Whats wrong?" he asked, putting his hands up as if in defeat. The drips from Beth's wet hands around the back of his neck registered for the first time in the periphery of his mind.

Beth smiled in spite of herself, he looked terrified. Like he didn't know that two people could argue and still be together.

"Nothin's wrong. You're just getting me all wet."

Daryl's eyes grew marginally larger and Beth snorted suddenly realizing what she had said. Neither missed the double meaning of her words.

"Shit," she whispered. "I meant, my shirt," pointing the back of her shirt, turning half way. It was indeed wadded up and wet from his own wet hands.

After he grumbled out a laugh, he said, "I got the same problem." Pointing to his neck.

"Hmmm...maybe we can remedy that," she said, swiftly pulling the shirt up above his head. "Maybe we could put this in the dryer," she suggested, throwing the shirt to the floor.

"Maybe," he mumbled, looking closely at her, trying to read an cues she might be giving off as to which way she really wanted this to go. Did she want to play around, or did she want more. Either way he knew he was in. One-hundred percent all in. So he flipped her shirt up over her head and let it fall to the floor.

'Uh huh. Yeah, the dryer. Later," he said, inches above her lips, then coming back down on hers. Angling his head, his tongue penetrating deep down into her mouth. In and out his tongue danced with hers. On one exit of his tongue, she sucked on it as he pulled it silkily out of her mouth.

Pulling back, needed a breath, Daryl laid his brow affectionately on hers. She surprised him, though. Taking Daryl by the hand and pulling him through the kitchen and around the corner, into the bathroom.

"What are you doin'?" He questioned, a game smile on his face.

"Oh, nothin'," she purred, reaching into the shower, turning the faucet to hot. "Just wouldn't want ya' to get cold from your wet shirt."

The room was small, white and black tiled floor, a claw foot tub with a rounded shower curtain surrounding the basin. A pedestal sink and antique mirror and the commode to the right. It took no time for the heat of the water to produce steam that floated over the tub and into the area where they stood.

It didn't take an anvil to the head to realize what Beth wanted. And he wanted it equally. Whatever 'it' was. If he was offered only ten seconds with her, he'd take it. He kissed her with a tenderness that stirred not only their bodies but their soul.

A low, crooning sound escaped her, and she found just enough control to unsnap the clasp of his jeans, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. She needed to feel his flesh, naked and hard and warm against her hands. They kissed, long and deep, with a sweet seriousness.

Before she could relieve him of his jeans, he kneeled down in front of her, pulling her jeans and panties down with him, helping her ease out of one leg then the other. From his position, he looked up at her smooth porcelain skin. Standing again, he cumberously removed his jeans and boxers, kicking off his shoes and socks in one swoop of clothing. Taking her lips again, he walked her backwards and they stepped into the tub without breaking contact.

Positioning her under the spigot, the hot water cascaded over her shoulders, instantly soaking her hair. It hung in long tendrils over her shoulders, down her back. Her wet hands traveling down his shoulders, down his chest and abs. Daryl caught her hand just short of traveling further as he wanted this, wanted everything, to be about her.

Deciding he liked the view, he knelt back on his knee. Her hands tangled in his hair as he spread her legs to nuzzle and explore. With the first touch of his tongue, she pulled his hair slightly and gasped into the damp air, her head falling backward. He lifted her leg, and she moved with him, placing her foot on the ledge of the tub. She surrendered her naked body to him, reveled in the sensations wrought by his lips and tongue.

She whispered his name, a ragged sound, and tears burned in her eyes. Thoughts racing; How did she ever live without him, without this? Without his touch. Without his kiss. Her days must of been dull, and her nights must of been empty. She must've been wandering around all this time, journeying into a lonely and uncertain future. They could make a future together. Beth told herself not to get caught up in what was, _now_ was all that mattered.

Daryl's hand on her inner thigh, stroking her with the opposite hands fingers, at the same time Daryl's mouth on her very center. Exploring every delicate fold. Dear God, it felt so good, the way he was loving her, almost too good.

Finally all thought left her mind and she was all consumed with Daryl and his touch. She was gasping with need and rapture as the first climax came agonizingly slow. Lifting, lifting and lifting her until it seized, making her buckle and moan in release.

"Don't stop," she pleaded, entangling her fingers in his hair. She hoped he would never cut his hair short. Well, maybe for their wedding day.

_Damn_

And it was at moments like this her abilities proved to be the most inconvenient.

Daryl chuckled against her skin and entered two fingers, delving into the hot satin skin, curling inward, finding that sweet spot. Forcing another wave of ecstasy start and stop through her body, convulsing tightly around his fingers.

. . .

She tasted like heaven and felt like the devil. He couldn't wait to get inside her, deep within. At the same time he'd wait forever for that if he had to. For now, this was enough. He'd never felt this way about a woman before, and he was determined to enjoy it. To enjoy her. Beth would always be enough for him, this much he knew.

Slowly Beth lowered her leg and Daryl stood. Beth's face with smooth, carefree. The crease that sometimes formed in between her eyebrows disappeared. Her eyes were closed and she leaned her forehead into his chest and he tightly wound his arms around her. She slumped into him and he marveled how completely she trusted him to hold her upright.

Eventually she came back to him, gazing up at him. Her gorgeous smile he liked to think she reserved solely for him, shone. It was crazy, had to be crazy, but he felt love penetrate him through those eyes, through her smile.

"I've never been with anyone like you." She told him. Daryl understood what she meant by the word 'been'.

"Well, we best not waste this shower," he said. Reaching into the alcove in the tile that served as a shelf for a random bottle with the word shampoo written on it. Why did women need so many damn shampoo bottles anyway, he wondered as he squirted clear orange scented liquid into the palm of his hand, and began massaging the soap into her hair.

Never had he cared so much for one person enough to wash their hair. It would've never occurred to him before. And while obliging him, she picked up another bottle squirting it into her palm and began soaping up his shoulders and chest. He was hard, obviously so. So hard it almost hurt and her tiny hands on his rough skin wasn't helping anything.

Lowering his head, he kissed her again. Pulling back, he then turned her around, her back facing his front, and she began rinsing her hair out. Innocently, or maybe it was on purpose, she stepped back. Her wet skin sliding erotically against his. His cock jumping from the sensation. Unwittingly he let out a groan, and though he couldn't see her face, in his mind's eye he saw her smile. That tiny devilish grin she got when she knew she was driving him crazy. Maybe even running her teeth through her bottom lip. The image in his mind was enough to send him even more on edge.

Grasping her hips, he pulled her to him. Beth straighten her body, pressing against him. Slick from the water, and hot from the their body heat. Winding his hands around her hips, up over her ribcage and cupping her breasts, she arched back and moaned.

Placing wet kisses to the skin of her neck, up to her ear, Daryl drank the water off her skin. Whether it was him or her that moved just so, somehow his cock ended up in between her legs. Its head running back and forth against swollen lips. Not thinking, just acting, he pinched the nipple of her right breast, his right hand going up to her lips where she sucked in his finger's. The very two that had been inside her. The sensation went straight to his groin.

"Holy Hell, Beth," he moaned through clenched teeth. She responded with her own ineligible groan around his finger.

Skimming his hands back down, bringing them to her hips, he steadied her. Slowing the erotic sway of the back and forth of her hips. The head of his cock pausing at her sodden entrance. Her hips moved mere millimeters and he pushed forward, his cock pressing ever so slightly into her.

Tempting. So tempting. Daryl didn't remember a time when anyone had tempted him like she did. They halted all movement again, the only sound were their harsh rapid breaths and the water that was beginning to run cold, but neither really noticed. Or cared.

"Do you wanta'?" Daryl ground out.

Beth's response was only to moan and push another millimeter back into him, her body applying maddening pressure to his cock. She waited on him to make the next move. Yes, it occurred to Daryl, that was exactly she was doing. Waiting on him to either make it happen, or pull away.

_She trusted him._

More than anyone ever had. And because of that, he couldn't let it happen. Not like this. Not without any protection, not when it would last a measly two pumps before blowing his load.

Instead he pulled away from her opening, and continued the back and forth motion of his head slipping against her slit. Beth tightened her legs together, applying agonizing friction. Reaching down in between her legs, she pushed his rigid cock up against herself. Daryl closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the sensations coursing through his cock. He leaned forward placing kisses to her shoulder, her neck. Nipping lightly with his teeth, then increased the pressure of his teeth, liking the idea of leaving marks on her for all the world to see.

Faster and faster his hips moved back and farther. Tighter and tighter Beth held her legs together, until it all became too much painful ecstasy and he pulled from Beth's thighs and she turned to face him. Grasping his cock in her fist and she pumped a few more times before he came fast and hard on her stomach.

. . .

Daryl expect it to be awkward afterward. How else could it be? Although they didn't technically have sex, he'd never stuck around long enough afterward to know how exactly things should go, but he didn't expect it to ever _not_ be awkward. He definitely didn't expect dinner.

That was what happened, however. They had dinner. They even prepared it together. It was just a quick meal of pre-made burgers cooked on the grill pan on the stove with a side of macaroni salad that she had already made. Beth transitioned so well from sexy goddess, to a woman cooking dinner that it left him a little whiplashed.

It was all a wonderful mind-fuck. If there were such a thing.

Daryl let Beth lead the conversation, trying his damnedest to interject a well meaning 'yeah' or 'uh-huh' but mostly he was quiet, mulling things over in his mind.

Once their meal was done and Beth stood and reached for his plate. He snatched his hand out, capturing her wrist, he peered up to her, eyes a river of blue determination.

"Come here girl," he mumbled, pulling her onto his lap where he sat at one of her ridiculously brightly painted chairs.

Without thought, her arms went around his neck and placed a warm kiss to his lips. "I had fun in the shower," she purred into his ear.

He reached up and ran his hands through her still damp hair.

"Emm," he moaned. "I did too."

"Hey," she pulled back her eyes bright. Apparently shifting gears.

"What?" He asked a little suspiciously.

"Its December."

"Uh huh," he agreed with nod of his head.

"We need a Christmas tree!"

_We?_

"Oh yeah?"

She rolled her eyes, cocked her head. "Uh huh," she repeated his favorite word.


	15. Chapter 15 - Tumultuary

_**Tumultuary:** (adj.) Turbulent, confused, disorderly._

_. . ._

Sure enough, the next weekend bright and too early, Beth dragged Daryl through the woods behind her house in search of the "perfect" tree. Daryl acted more reluctant than he was in actuality. He found himself enjoying their little endeavor. Oh hell, who was he trying to kid? He enjoyed spending time with Beth doing just about anything. Sitting on the couch, not watching TV - which was a new idea for him - and talking. Making dinner side by side, doing dishes, splitting wood. She made everything seem like fun, like magic, as corny as it may sound. His brother teasing him that he was wipped, may very well be true. Even if they hadn't had sex yet.

"There, over there." Beth spoke from her spot behind him on the four-wheeler. He navigated over to where she pointed and they dismounted the ATV and Daryl watched as Beth inspected the tree. He had to admit it was a pretty tree. Fat and full, about five foot tall.

"What do ya' think?" She asked him, standing a few steps behind her. Plooms of condensation formed from their mouths when they spoke. The sky held big heavy clouds Beth wished were filled with snow. She loved Georgia, but had gone to school and lived in the north long enough to know she also loved snow. She missed it especially over Christmas. Daryl shrugged his shoulder, nodded his head in manly ambivalence.

Reaching behind her, she pulled him by the hand, a little forcibly, to stand next to her. "Ain't ya' ever looked for a tree before?"

When he didn't respond, she realized he probably hadn't since his mother died so young and his father and Merle, she guessed, weren't the traditional type of guys.

"Oh, Daryl I'm sorry."

He placed an arm low around her waist, "Ain't nothin."

Then after a moment, she lightheartedly said, "I guess this will be your first. Our first."

There she went with that ' _our_ ' stuff again. It made him uncomfortable in the best way. Talking about them in that sense seemed to slide off her tongue with such ease. He wondered if she knew something he didn't.

"Alright then, get cuttin Mr. Dixon." She directed, swatting him on the butt lightly.

. . .

After dragging the tree back to the house with the quad and a couple tow-straps, Daryl helped Beth set it up in the living room which meant moving the couch to the other side of the living room so the tree could be in front of the windows. He then carried two tubs of christmas decorations down from the small attic space and even went as far as to help string the lights and put up a few ornaments.

Giving in to exhaustion, even though Beth seemed to be teaming the non-stop energy, he leaned back on the sofa, propping one foot up on the cushion. He lazily ran a strand of tinsel through his fingers, taking in the sights of their combined efforts.

The clouds had strangled out what little of the sun there was, making the room dark. Cozy. A low fire crackled in the fireplace and Beth stood in front of the 'their' christmas tree, fussing with the finishing touches. The twinkle lights set the room into a soft glow. The whole scene made him feel unsettlingly at ease, if that were possible.

He noticed how she lovingly smoothed a finger down a wooden cross ornament after adjusting it just so on a prominent branch. It struck him as odd. Not bad, just odd, a fortune teller with a cross.

"Where'd you get that one?" he asked, catching her attention.

"Hmm?" she asked sounding far off, lost in thought.

"That one there, the cross. Where'd you get it?" He repeated.

"Oh. That was my parents. It hung on their tree since before I was born, I'm sure." Knowing the question in his mind, she said, "My daddy was a preacher."

"How'd you end up being a psychic?" He wondered.

She snorted out a laugh, looking over her shoulder. "I didn't end up being one, I didn't _choose_ it."

Looking once again at the ornament, she left the tree and went to him, sitting down next to him kicking her foot underneath her. That crease in between her eyebrows had formed again.

"I know, baby. I didn't mean..." He really didn't mean to imply anything.

She rose her hand, cutting him off. "I know you didn't mean anything." And she smiled at him, letting him off the hook once again. "But you were wondering how a preacher's daughter became tarot card reader?"

He nodded. That's exactly he was wondering.

"The cards, they are a tool. Some people think they are bad, but they aren't. Unless you use them for bad, of course. They only aid in my abilities. Some people think I'm bad, that my abilities are bad or an abomination. I'm not bad either."

"You're not bad." He agreed with certainty. After a moment he nodded, he thought he understood. Shifting gears he asked, "What were your parent's names?"

She didn't expect him to ask that, she expected more questions about her being a psychic. Beth looked down at her folded hands, a lump forming in her throat. "Hershel and Annette. After Maggie and I decided to sell the farm, we split up what we wanted to keep from the house, and sold the rest. When we came to that cross ornament, I insisted Maggie keep it. She insisted I keep it. Finally, I thought I had wore her down and she took it. Well, I received a package in the mail a few weeks later and it was the cross." Beth chuckled at the memory, a wistful blush graced the apples of her cheeks.

It was obvious Beth's affection for her sister. Daryl hadn't met Maggie. Yet. But he was sure that was coming soon. He was, much to his own surprise, okay with that.

Beth seemed to stare off into space, lost in thought, so he allowed her to remain that way. He didn't want to interpret whatever was deep in her mind. Saying nothing, he wound his arm around her shoulders and she leaned in just so, her head resting on his shoulder. She fit so well against his body, like a piece of the puzzle that had been missing for years, only now finding it.

. . .

Things had been quiet at home between Daryl and Merle. Not that they were big talkers, things had just been quieter than normal. He handled things the best way he knew how, by avoiding Merle as best he could. And if he had to take a guess, Merle was doing the same.

He was unsure where Merle was spending his time, but then again Daryl spent the majority of his time when he wasn't working at Beth's. He always wondered how couples spent so much time together. Now he understood. Beth was easy to be around. She talked when she wanted, was quiet when she felt like it. She laughed. A lot. He liked that about her.

The first few days after they'd found Merle at the cemetery and dragged him back home, he'd kept to himself. Slept most of the time. Then they both went back into their normal routines, only now there was more distance between them than there had ever been.

At some point, though, he knew he had to have a talk with Merle. He was apparently more into drugs than Daryl had thought. And while he didn't know how to go about it, it needed to be addressed. Unfortunately.

Tonight seemed like as good a night as any since they were both home at the same time.

. . .

Beth loved Christmas time. It made everything seem fresh and new. Everyone seemed kinder. The world seemed stiller. Her mind seemed quieter. And, even though there was no snow, she loved the way the lights from the tree sent shadows playing on the wall outlining the tree.

After Daryl left, Beth curled up on the couch under a thick blanket she had knitted and stared at the tree. The exertion from retrieving the tree and putting it up, along with decorating it combined with the warmth from the fire, she grew tired.

The woman apparition was showing herself more and more these days, drifting in and out so much so that Beth hardly noticed when she was there or not. The woman seemed to have tact at least, and made herself scarce when it was Beth and Daryl alone most of the time. Today, though, she had shown up when Beth was telling Daryl about the cross tree ornament. And now, as Beth's eyes began to blur and her eyelids became heavy while lying on the couch, the woman appeared before her again. Affectionately brushing a strand of hair off of Beth's cheek with invisible fingers. Sleepily, she saw the woman's transparent hand, felt her hair being brushed back, but felt no pressure from the woman's touch.

Beth felt herself relax the rest of the way into a deep sleep.

. . .

"So. You ready to talk about what happened? Why you took off for days?" Daryl finally strummed up the courage to ask. His reluctance was not because he was scared, he was reluctant because of the inevitable argument it would cause.

Merle reclined in the chair, feet up on the foot rest. A plate with a half eaten burrito sat in his lap. To Daryl's shock a can of Coke, not beer, was on the TV tray next to him.

He barely spared Daryl a glance before going back to watching two men pummel each other in an octagon shaped ring on the TV screen. He didn't speak for so long that Daryl thought he wasn't going to answer at all. He was about to repeat his question when Merle finally spoke. Well, not so much spoke as mumbled.

"The fuck you talkin bout, man?"

"Why'd you take off?"

"What the hell? We gonna start talking bout our feelings now?" Merle joked.

"Well, we can talk about you turning into a crack addict. How's that for talkin bout our feelings?"

Merle glanced at Daryl, judging the seriousness of his statement. Rolling his shoulders, he slammed the footrest down and placed the plate atop a stack of magazines on the tray.

"I just needed to get outta' here. Sometimes this house is too full."

Well, Daryl wasn't expecting that for an answer.

"What's that mean?" Daryl prompted, not wanting to put Merle off of talking, but wanting to know more.

Merle looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. "I dunno. Memories and shit. I was half baked anyway. Didn't know what the hell I was doin."

"And you think it was a good idea to take off when you were in that state? You coulda killed yo'self."

When Merle looked back over to Daryl, his eyes were dark impassive holes. "Why don't you just mind your own fuckin business?"

Merle's words may of been cruel, but they held no anger. A dog's bark without the bite. They were spoken in almost defeat. He'd never heard his brother sound so tired.

"You are my business," Daryl stated quietly. Pushing further he asked, "Were you...were you tryin to kill yourself?" Daryl _didn't_ want to know the answer about as much as he _did_ want to know the answer.

"Na'. That woulda just been a side benefit."

Anger was beginning to itch inside of Daryl and it carried on the edge of his voice when he spoke again, "Don't you care? I done nothin but watch after you for the the last fifteen years, probably more, and the second I turn my back, you just gonna take off in a winter storm and curl up on our mother's grave like some lost little kid?"

Merle shot out of the chair way faster than Daryl had seen him move in years. He stalked over to where Daryl reclined on the couch, bending slightly, he pointed a gnarled finger at him, "You better watch your mouth, sunshine. It weren't for me, you wouldn't of made it out of childhood."

"Then where were you when Daddy was beatin the shit outta me?" Daryl yelled, giving it right back to him. Giving in to the frustration and fear he constantly felt concerning Merle.

"You think I didn't protect you?" To Daryl's surprise, Merle actually looked offended.

"I got scars that prove you didn't." Daryl knew that wasn't fair. Merle did what he could. Or, Daryl _hoped_ Merle did what he could. Sometimes, he wondered though. Merle's affection for raising hell, drinking and women outweighed his need to protect his brother. In all fairness Merle was a kid too. They were both dealt the short hand in life.

"There's so much you don't know about. Shit _I_ protected you from."

Daryl spread his arms, "Well, come on. Don't hold back. I'm all grown up now."

Merle bent down lower, leaning a hand on the armrest, his face two inches from Daryl's. "Well, how bout for starters, our Mama..."

"Well come on, don't stop now, big brother." Daryl taunted...

. . .

When Beth woke a few hours later the fire had died completely down and the room had turned cold. Shivering slightly, she pulled the afghan around her shoulders. Feeling too lazy to get up to move to her bedroom, she let her eyes begin to close again. She was dreaming of her and Daryl, laying in a hammock together. It was summer and the breeze was warm and Daryl's arms around her felt as real as if he were there on the couch with her. Wanting to let sleep overtake her once more, wanting to get back to that dream, Beth vaguely wondered what had woken her. Something in the air was different, unease surrounded her like smoke from a campfire recently extinguished by a bucket of water.

Sitting up abruptly, the blanket piling at her lap, she stared at the object in the center of the coffee table in disbelief. She hadn't left it there, she knew she hadn't. The last time she used her laptop had been the day before and she returned it to its normal place, where she always kept it on the bookshelf.

Reaching an uneasy hand, she ran her fingers over the mouse bringing the laptop to life in a flash of bright light from the screen. Blinking to adjust her eyes to the light, she read the webpage that she knew for a fact she had closed out of shortly after coming across it the first time. In bold headlines, she read the title once more "Questions Asked Regarding Death of King County Mother of Two".

This time, she didn't close the page. This time, she read the article.


	16. Mokita

**I hope this makes sense. lol Thanks for reading!**

* * *

  _ **Mokita:** The truth everyone knows but agrees not to talk about. _

_. . ._

As Beth read the words on her computer screen, the black text too dark against the bright white background, an uncontrollable shiver ran through her body.

_King County, Georgia_  
_February 4, 1987_

_Questions remain following the alleged death of a King County mother of two. On December 1st, there was no distressed phone call to police, no frantic desperation, no paramedics, no medical examiner. Just a phone call Will Dixon placed to a long time friend, the local Sheriff. According to very sparse records, Melody Dixon and fallen and hit her head, causing death._

The article went on to speculate what had happened, and expanded on the rumors that surrounded the incident. How the Sheriff refused to investigate further and there was even an interview done with the local funeral home directors nephew alluding to the fact that money may of exchanged hands in bribery to bury an empty casket. It was all hearsay, of course. But to Beth, it was more.

Occasionally Beth picked up sensations or brief glimpses from an object. Or sometimes, while watching a movie or reading a book she would get a glimpse of what will happen next. This "glimpse" usually only lasting for a few seconds. This time, though, starting at the periphery of her vision the room went white with a flash of bright light encompassing her body and she was suddenly standing in a field of grass.

Looking around she realized it wasn't a field, but the yard of a home that hadn't been mowed in months. The tall grass tickled at her ankles and the chilly breeze blew her hair around her face. Just like that first vision she had when she was doing a reading for Rosita, she felt the weight of someone else's hand in her own and she looked down to see she was, in fact, holding a small hand. Following the hand up the arm and over the shoulder to a dark haired little boy gazing up at her with blue eyes that mirrored the fluffy clouds in the sky. He smiled up her and grasped her hand tightly.

Suddenly, she was no longer the woman holding the child's hand, but a bystander watching from the sidelines. The woman with long blonde hair and bare feet kneeled down to the boy who listened eagerly.

"Baby, we're gonna go on an..." the woman faltered, then spoke again, "on an adventure. Doesn't that sound fun?"

The boy nodded his head vigorously and smiled affectionately. Then his smile slid from his face as he asked, "Is brother coming? What about daddy?"

"No, they can't come. It's gonna be just you and me, hows that sound?"

The boy thought for a moment before nodding his head again. The woman smiled warmly at the boy, but Beth felt the sadness, the heaviness, she carried around her shoulders.

Beth's own eyes swam with tears, as did the woman's as she reached up and brushed the boy's hair out of his face. The woman's head shot up from the boy to the sound of a door slamming shut, and when Beth followed the sound, a house appeared.

Daryl's house.

She was at Daryl's house? Confused she looked back to the woman and the boy. It was now obvious who the little boy was. Obvious who the woman was.

Daryl and his mother.

Beth's chest tightened as the woman, Melody, stood up from her position of kneeling in front of Daryl. The man, almost Merle's exact image, came barreling from the house, something heavy and long grasped in his meaty fist. A crowbar, Beth realized, as he buzzed past her and straight for Melody and Daryl.

The woman began to back away, "You leave us alone now, Will. Daryl ain't done nothing. He's just a little boy."

"He's _my_ boy and you ain't goin' nowhere with him."

Beth felt the woman's fear transform to anger then to strength. Taking a stand against the man that had abused her since she was a teenager.

"The hell I ain't," Melody told Will.

Melody couldn't save Merle. It was too late for him, he was too brainwashed by Will. He'd refused adamantly when she went to him, asking him to come with her. Even though Merle was probably the one to tell Will of her plan's to leave, taking Daryl with her, she felt no ill will towards her son. Her only regret was that she waited too long to leave.

By this time Will was towering over them and Daryl had buried his face in Melody's outer thigh. "You think you can just take my boy away from me?" Will barked out a laugh.

That's what it was about for him: possession. It had nothing to do with love or loyalty. This was his son, no one else's, especially not some woman's.

Melody began backing away, slowly, hoping Will's anger blinded his perception.

"I am taking Daryl," she told him, enunciating each word. Her chin held high, placing one foot behind the other. Slow. Step by step she backed up.

"Get back here," he snapped at her, grasping for her arm. She pulled away and began walking backward. Turning she pulled Daryl with her. Panic searing through her veins. Will rose the crow bar above his head. She ran. At first she thought maybe, just maybe, she could round the house and get to her car and get away. That idea shattered, along with her vision as the crowbar came down on her head, sending her world to black.

. . .

"What the hell do you mean she's not dead?" Daryl almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Their mother isn't dead? Yeah, fucking right.

"We buried her. I remember her funeral. Daddy was drunk during it." Or, he wondered, if he _thought_ he remembered. He'd only been five afterall. He remembered being scared and alone. His little heart ached for his mother. To hear her comforting words, to feel the warmth of her caress on his forehead, brushing away his perpetual shaggy hair. His heart still ached, if he were being completely honest with himself. It wasn't like anyone ever asked him how he felt or how he was after she died. His aunt, Aaron's mother, had tried, but Will quickly rebuffed her. Telling her to her to mind her own. And they never spoke of it again.

"It was all a farce. She took off."

Daryl had had enough. He shot to his feet and shoved Merle on the chest, hard enough to send him shuffling back several footsteps.

"That's a damn lie. She wouldn't of left me." Daryl hated it, but tears sprang to his eyes and his voice wavered. "Wouldn't of left me with _him_."

An even bigger shock was when Merle's eyes filled with tears as well, though he sniffed them back quickly. "She didn't have a choice."

"Fuck you." Daryl growled. And then before he did or said anything he'd regret, he marched through the living room and kitchen and out the door.

. . .

Beth jerked awake, except she was already awake. She was back in her living room. Still sitting at her couch, the blanket still on her lap, the computer still in front of her. The webpage to the story was now closed and a new Google search page was opened. Hands shaking, freezing. With shaky fingers she typed the words Melody Dixon, Georgia into the search bar.

Certainly she wouldn't still use that name, would she if she took off? Seems like she would've gone back to her maiden name, or used and new name entirely. And why was she searching for her anyway. This wasn't her place. She needed to go to Daryl with what she knew. Though, she couldn't image how that conversation would go. How would she begin to breach the subject. "Oh, by the way your mom isn't dead and I looked her up on Google search."

No, Beth rolled her eyes at herself, that wouldn't go over well. Still, she finished typing in Melody's name and hit enter with and audible punch of her index finger. Again, a thousand Melody's appeared. Taking a deep breath, Beth started at the beginning. Letting her intuition guide her.

An hour later, eyes aching, she had narrowed her search down to a handful Melody's that lived in the state of Georgia. It was really just a crap shoot, but after a little more digging, Beth had an epiphany of sorts. Daryl had said his mother and Aaron's mother were sisters. She was not Will's sister. After a moment of wracking her brain, she remembered Aaron's last name was Marquand. She remembered this because she had asked Aaron to spell it. It was rather unique. What was also interesting was it was Aaron's mother's maiden name. She never married or took his father's name because he hadn't been a part of Aaron's life. Daryl had mentioned an Uncle, the man that had married his aunt years after Aaron was born.

Huzzah! Beth surprised herself she remembered all those details. Now, could've Melody took that name and disappeared...

A search for Melody Marquand returned quite a few less names. Narrowing it down, she found a Melody Marquand in a town about thirty minutes from here. Her fingertips began to tingle, the tingle running up her arms to her ears that began to ring. This was her. Beth was almost sure of it.

. . .

Daryl drove down the familiar drive. It was getting late, but the lights glowed warmly behind the windows and gauzy white curtains. After leaving home, he didn't know where to go. For a while, he just drove around aimlessly. Smoking cigarette after cigarette until his throat was raw. He didn't really think about much. His mind in too much of a state of confusion to sort anything out. Needing to go somewhere, talk to someone. Someone that would give him a little insight maybe. He drove the familiar streets till he came to his wanted destination.

Now that he was here, he wasted no time in making his way to the door, pounding on it until the door Aaron appeared on the other side. Bright light from the foyer shone in his eyes, making him squint.

"Hey Daryl," Aaron looked perplexed. Daryl did stop by often, but not this late at night. He looked closer, and taking in the look on his face, Aaron pulled open the door the rest of the way, motioning him inside.

He marched into the living room where Eric lounged on the sofa watching television where two people appeared to argue about whether or not they should tear down a wall. Taking notice of Daryl's disheveled appearance, and the heavier than normal frown that creased his mouth, he sat up.

"Daryl, what is it?" He asked.

By then Aaron had sat back down next to Eric, matching looks of expectancy on their faces.

Fuck it, Daryl thought and just came out with it. "Is my mother still alive?"

Aaron's mouth dropped open and Eric audibly gasped. No one moved. It seemed no even breathed. The silent minutes ticked on until Eric stood and said, "Well this seems like a family matter. I'll just..."

Daryl who'd been pacing back and forth from the fireplace to the wall across the room, rose a hand palm out, motioning for him to sit back down. "You are family Eric."

He then stopped pacing and turned his focus on Aaron. "Have you ever heard, has your mother ever mentioned..."

"That you're mother is still alive?" Aaron finished for him.

Daryl fooled a lot of people. Aaron wasn't one of them. He saw the fear in Daryl's eyes. He saw the pain. "I'm sorry Daryl. I don't mean to add to your hurt, to your pain."

"How come I feel like there's a big ol' _but_ coming?"

Aaron nodded, " _But_. I've heard talk throughout the years. No one ever spoke to me directly, I'd just catch the tail end of conversations. Sometimes my mother would talk of her - Melody, in present tense." Aaron ran his fingers through his hair. "I thought she misspoke. Honestly Daryl, if I knew anything I would've told you."

Daryl felt the room begin to move, though he was standing still. The edges of his vision began to darken and he placed his hand on the mantle of the fireplace, taking long breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth. The oak mantle felt solid under his hands. Cool to the touch. Real. Unlike this fucked up alternate universe he had stumbled into.

Wanting to help, Eric stood from the couch. "I'll get you a bottle of water, or a shot of whiskey. Or the whole bottle of whiskey. I'll be right back," and disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron rose and went to Daryl, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What brought this up? What happened?"

Daryl didn't turn to face Aaron until Eric was back with the bottle of whiskey, and taking it from him with a nod of thanks, he unscrewed the lid, tipped the bottle and knocked back two shot's before he was ready to talk again.


	17. Insolvency

**This chapter can be summed up this way - as fan fiction readers, we win some, we lose some. Thank you for reading, and please don't hate me.**

* * *

_**Insolvency** : (N.) Failure_

_. . ._

Daryl woke early and a little groggy headed, momentarily forgetting where he was. He peered around the room, one eye open judging by the neat and tidy look of the room that he was not home. The couch underneath him was way too comfortable, and the stale smell of cigarette smoke didn't permeate the room. Opening the other eye, he focused on the half empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him, and it all came barreling back.

His argument with Merle. Taking off. Driving aimlessly then ending up at Aaron and Eric's home. He'd confided in them what Merle had said. Then Eric offered him the whiskey and his memory started to blur from that point onward. Judging by his pounding head, and his temporary residence on the couch, he'd probably drank most of the bottle himself.

Slowly, he sat up and when his head began to spin, he leaned it on the back of the sofa. It was still early, the sun barely cracking to horizon, but to Daryl it was already way too bright. He longed for the sunglasses he kept in the visor of his truck.

Moaning slightly he closed his eyes, recounting what Aaron had told him. How Aaron's mother had sometimes talked about Melody as though she didn't disappear years before. How occasionally, Aaron's mother would abruptly stop talking or change the subject completely when he'd enter the room, leaving him with an uneasy feeling. While Aaron thought it strange, he never questioned it. Until now. Now it all kind of made sense. Kind of.

Aaron offered to call his mother, ask some questions. Daryl had refused. He needed time to sort, whatever the hell this all was, out. And then he drank the whole house and part of his truck apparently. Figuring he'd done enough imposing for the time being, he stood. Folded the throw he'd been covered in and placed it on the back of the couch. Slowly, very slowly, he bent and grabbing his boots that sat on the floor at the end of the couch, tiptoed out of the house and to his truck.

Slipping the transmission into neutral, he gave a slight push with his foot out the driver's side door and rolled down the slanted drive. Gunning the engine once he was past their house, he was on the road again. The coveted sunglasses covering his eyes, the window rolled down letting in the early morning chill, clearing his brain marginally. He knew he didn't want to go home, not yet anyway. He and Merle would have to hash this out eventually. Today was not that day, however.

After stopping off at the gas station, grabbing a cup of crappy coffee that was strong enough to peel the wallpaper off a wall. It did the job of waking him up, clearing his foggy brain. He tried to pretend like he didn't know where he was going, like the truck seemed to steer on its own accord. He really did know where he was intent on going though. Straight to Beth's.

He needed her. Needed her stability. Her sensibility. Her optimism. He needed her to tell him everything would be fine. That none of this was true. He needed her to lie to him.

Letting himself into her house using the key she had given him, he slipped off his boots and flannel jacket and walked soundlessly through the living room, down the short hallway and into her bedroom. She lay on her side, her back facing him. The twinkle lights washed the room in a white glow, turning her hair pale and her skin like milk.

When he slid in behind her, warping her in his arms tightly, she didn't jump. Didn't scream or push him away. It was as though she knew he was coming. Which, of course, she probably did.

Instead, she sighed and pushed back against him. Whispering his name.

_Daryl._

Except she didn't actually say his name aloud. It only sounded in his mind.

"Beth. Oh, God, Beth." He almost whined in final defeat.

She rolled onto her back and sleepy eyes peered up at him. Cheeks flushed pink from sleep, her hair haloed around her head. She reached up a hand and traced the skeletal structure of his face. Brushing past the socket of his eye, down the jutting cheekbone, rounding the stark curve of his chin.

"I..." he began. Stopping when his voice hiccuped on emotion. Embarrassed for the flood of tears that wanted to tumble out of him in confession.

"Shh," Beth whispered, placing a finger to his lips. She knew what he needed, and it wasn't talk.

Daryl grasped her hand in his, and kissed her finger, closing his eyes. Beth traced his lips, and leaned forward, replacing her finger with her lips. He moaned deep in his throat. Lightly, she pushed him onto his back with her body and straddled his waist. Daryl looked up at her, his very own angel sent down from heaven just for him. How he got so lucky, he'll never know.

She only wore a blue and pink plaid pajama top which she rid her body of with one swoop of fabric over her head. There she was, baring her utmost intimacy to him. Her perfect milky white skin glowing, literally glowing, in the soft lights strung from the ceiling.

He ran his hand up her arm around the curve of her right breast, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. Then tracing feather light back down over her breast, the nipple protruding just from the slightest touch of his calloused skin. Taking her breast fully into his palm, he squeezed heartily. Beth ground her pelvis into his jean clad middle, his hardness pushing back.

When Beth made a move to lay back on the mattress he kept her there on top of him by grasping her hips. He needed her to stay there just a moment longer basking in her beautiful body. Afraid to blink. Afraid she might just disappear. Nothing else in his life was shaping up to be real, why would this?

But she didn't disappear. She stayed right where he held her. Leaning up he placed his lips onto hers. Lightly at first. Then angling his head, he became more desperate. His tongue dancing forcefully with hers. Both hands covered her breasts, squeezing until she moaned in pleasured pain. Her fingers ran through his hair, knocking his hat off his head, traveling down his back, pulling his shirt up. He broke the kiss only long enough to pull his shirt off. Then their lips were clasped in another passionate seize. The power of it shot from his lips, to his toe's and every sweet spot in between.

In between their bodies Beth fiddled with the buckle of his belt until she was able to unclasp it. Deftly unsnapping the top button, followed by the zipper. Unable to hold back, she dove in and her hand closed over him. Her small hand rounding his hard cock sent a thrill through him and he quick as a flash had her underneath him.

Trailing kisses down her neck, to the tender skin of the hollow of her collarbone, over the mound of breast, kissing the nipple taut. Beth leaned up slightly and shoved his jeans and boxers down over his hips and ass and then using her feet pushed them down to his knees where he took over and shimmied the rest of the way out of them

Taking a moment, he pulled away briefly, resting on his elbows, cupping her face with his were finally skin to skin and it was going to happen. Nothing short of a hurricane would tear him from her in that moment.

Her eyes, reflecting a hundred tiny twinkle lights, penetrated him in their usual way. He no longer squirmed under her stare. Now, he welcomed it. Needed it, like he needed air.

"I want you so bad," he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion he'd never felt before.

"Then have me," she answered simply.

So, he did. With one swift motion he was buried deep inside her. He watched Beth as her eyes glazed over in ecstasy as his body began to move inside hers. Slowly, because if he went any faster he'd lose it right then and there. Lowering his lips, he brushed her forehead, her eyelid, her cheek and then, finally, her lips. She was soft and receptive.

Inside his chest, his heart beat hard and heavily, pumping heated blood through his veins. His hands roamed across her bare flesh. A caress here, a stroke there, all the while tangling his tongue with hers. Beth's soft moans, the way her body molded to his, the way she trusted him fully and so completely was his undoing. It would be easy to say any woman could make him feel this way, but it wasn't true. He'd never felt like this. Hoped to never feel this way with anyone else, because he didn't plan on ever being with anyone else again. This was it for him. Everything, everyone else paled in comparison to Beth Greene.

Her nails dug into the flesh of his back as he began to pick up speed, thrusting in and out, completely exiting her body before plunging back in. Bending his head, his lips traveled to her breasts, sucking, none too lightly, bring her nipple to a strong peak, eliciting another moan. Cupping her other breast, he tweaked the nipple between his fingers. And, though he wasn't expecting it, she tightened around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure shot through her. Taking her mouth, swallowing her moans, he consumed her, unable to get enough of this feeling.

Pulling back, he watched as she came down, her eyes focusing once again on his. His hands moved through her hair, over her shoulders, and down her body to her hips to take a good, strong hold. She melted under him, and even as she went weak, she came alive with heat and movement, moving her hips, vibrating as he tried his best to hang on as time stood still and the friction of their bodies sped up.

It was crazy. Rash. Foolish. But he couldn't stop himself, couldn't make her stop. She clamped hold of the back of his head and pulled him back to her mouth and he went eagerly.

"Beth," he said in between kisses. He didn't know what he wanted to say, the words so jumbled in his brain he would need an interpreter to understand them. She smile up to him, slow and sultry.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Dixon."

"There might be if we don't stop." His mind and heart were powerless to her. If she wanted to continue then they would. The idea of stopping was enough to drive him insane. This woman tempted him like no one else.

Surely, it would be okay. He always tried to do the right thing in his adult life. He worked. Took care of his fucked up brother as best he could. Paid his bills. Put gas in his truck at half a tank. He deserved this, to take his hands off the wheel, so to speak.

But that wouldn't be fair to anyone. Would it?

. . .

Once they were able to focus again and the throbbing of their hearts, and other body parts, returned to normal, Beth slipped from bed. Throwing his shirt on, she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. And what was it about a woman wearing your discarded before sex t-shirt anyway? It made him semi-hard all over again.

When she returned, sipping the water, wearing his damn shirt, she offered the glass to him. Taking it he drank half the contents in a few gulps, eyeing her cautiously. Hair mussed, cheeks colored from pasion, tiny blotches of red spotted over her neck from the five o'clock shadow he sported. He'd never seen her look better.

She took the cup from him, placing it on the nightstand then she crawled back into bed with him. Laying at his side, his arm holding her protectively close. He kissed the top of her head, wishing there was someway he could formulate the words he felt for her, but his brain failed him once again.

"You're head still hurt?" She asked.

"How did you know my head hurt?"

She only gave him a knowing look as though he'd forgotten who he was speaking to.

"Oh. Umm, no. It's gone." Her healing magic must've done its work again.

Daryl became uneasy. If she knew about his headache, did she know about the whiskey too? And if she knew about the whiskey, did she know the rest? He needed to tell her. Just not right now. Right now he'd enjoy basking in post-sex glow with the most beautiful woman he'd ever met in his arms.

"So, what brings you here so early? I mean, I'm not complaining, but it's a little early isn't it?"

It wasn't his intention for them to have sex. Or maybe it was. He wasn't even sure anymore. He just knew it happened and it was pretty damn spectacular.

"Just wanted to see you." Just needed to see you. He'd fill her in at some point about his mother. Maybe. Just not right now.

"Oh, I guess that's okay." She smirked, snuggling into him more.

. . .

They must've dozed off because when Beth woke again the sun was much higher in the sky. Fumbling sleepily for her phone she kept on the nightstand, she saw it was only eight in the morning. She also realized she was alone.

Clearing her throat she called Daryl's name. No answer. She sat up, looking through the gauzy fabric of her curtains and saw his truck still in his drive. He probably got up, maybe took a shower, or…

"Oh no," she whispered to herself, kicking the blanket off, she slipped her own night shirt back on because Daryl had slipped his shirt off of her before they fell asleep.

"No, no, no," she chanted and rushed out to the living room. Her stomach dropped at the sight of Daryl.

He was sitting on the couch fully dressed, a pack of cigarettes on the table as though he'd been going out or coming back in from a smoke. His elbows leaning on his knees, his back curved into the position of defeat. His hands were in his hair, like he tended to do when he was upset.

Quietly she walked to him, stopping just shy of reach. "Umm, Daryl? You okay?" Stupid question. No, he wasn't okay.

Without looking, he tossed a balled up scrap piece of paper at her, it landing at her feet. She didn't have to look at it to know what it was. Last night, when she finally came across whom she thought to be the correct Melody, along with her name she jotted down the address, not sure what she'd do with it, but still feeling the need to keep it just the same.

"I'm sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Dary shot up so quickly, Beth took an instinctive step back. Though she knew Daryl would never hurt her, she wanted to allow him his space. She'd already invaded his privacy too much.

"Who said you can go snoopin round in my business? Who invited you into my mind?" he asked pointing a finger to his temple.

"I wasn't. Not exactly. I had a vision and…"

"Oh," he said letting the word drag out. "You had a vision. That makes it all okay then."

She flinched as though he'd struck her. "That's not fair Daryl."

"Not fair? Not fair?" His voice rose. "You wanna talk about not fair? Not fair is finding out you're mother isn't dead like you'd thought since you were five. And finding out she's actually been alive this whole time. So instead of dyin she just abandoned you. That's not fucking fair."

Beth took a step toward him, touching his forearm lightly. "I don't think that's what really happened." She spoke softly, yet earnestly.

He snatched his arm from her. "Well, by all means, tell me what happened," he said sarcastically.

"I...I don't know."

Daryl snorted humorlessly. Cruely. "Figures."

He shoved away from her and strode out leaving the door open behind him, leaving Beth breathless with the pain that seared through her heart.

Beth's mother's words rang in her head, "never run after a man, if he's walking away just let him go." And her mother's advice had yet to fail her now. So, slowly she walked to the door and shut it behind Daryl as he tore down her driveway and down the dirt road with such speed his truck fishtailed.

He saw her in his rearview mirror a split second before she closed the door. The crestfallen look on her face tore at his heart. The further he got from her house, the more he calmed down. Going from irate to feeling the dumbfounded idiot he was.

She was right, it wasn't fair. How he'd treated her was wrong. None of this was her fault. The pressure of the news the day before had built to a hilt and he'd gone off on her not giving her a chance to explain why she'd had his mother's name along with an address written on a piece of paper sitting in the center of the living room coffee table.

"Damn it," he ground out, slapping the steering wheel with his palm and deciding he had to go back. He knew without a doubt she was the best thing in his life and there he was, fucking it up. Slowing where the stop sign was that lead to the main road into town, he curved right to make a u-turn. He didn't see the eighteen wheeler coming at him. The driver didn't even have time to apply his brakes before crashing into the side of Daryl's truck.


	18. Tenebrae

**This wasn't a fun or easy chapter to write. But it needed to be written so I didn't want to leave you all hanging. Thank you for still reading/commenting.**

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_**Tenebrae** : (N.) Darkness_

"Damn it," Daryl ground out, slapping the steering wheel with his palm and deciding he had to go back. He knew without a doubt Beth was the best thing in his life and there he was, fucking it up. Slowing at the stop sign at the end of Beth's road, he curved right to make a u-turn. So distracted, lost in his thoughts, he didn't see the eighteen wheeler coming at him and when he pulled out the driver of the semi didn't have time to apply the brakes before crashing into the side of Daryl's truck.

His world shifted into slow motion. The screeching of metal on metal, of tires on pavement leaving long black marks, was deafening. A split second before the semi carrying a full load crashed into the truck, Daryl saw it and knew, j _ust knew_ , he was going to die that day.

Then everything sped up. The impact of the semi on the side of his truck sent it skidding sideways and flung Daryl into the driverside door, shattering the window with his shoulder. As the semi continued to push at his truck, crushing the passenger side closer and closer inward, Daryl's vision wavered. Turning from color to grey, then back to a bright spectrum of light and colors. When the tires hitched on the edge of the ditch the truck began to tip, flipping completely over twice before righting itself on the other side.

Daryl's last coherent thought was Beth.

. . .

When the pain jolted through Beth's body she was sitting on the edge of her bed slipping on her shoes. After Daryl left, she was stunned, almost emotionless. If she allowed her feelings to come to the surface, she feared it might crush her. She had gone to her bedroom and stripped the sheets off the bed, tossing them on the floor in the hallway intent on washing them and hopefully all the memories away with it. She got dressed, putting on her shoes but before she could plan her next move pain seared through her shoulder so sharp it made her squeal and jump off the bed. She ran her hand along her arm expecting to find whatever had caused the pain. But she found nothing. Her vision went white and she saw a truck, Daryl's truck, tumbling over and over. She felt his pain, in her shoulder, in her head, in her leg. She felt his resignation to death, she felt the truck drivers shock and fear.

Once her vision was restored and her surroundings were once again her bedroom, breath flowed back in her lungs and she gasped. Leaning on the bed, trying to gather her bearings enough to figure out what just happened. She knew one thing for sure, it wasn't good.

"Daryl," she whispered to the room. He was in trouble.

Rushing, she ran from the bedroom to the living room and out of the door to her Jeep. People chastised her for leaving her keys in the ignition of her car, but it served its purpose on more than one occasion. She was able to jump in her car and go without searching for the keys.

Speeding down the road that Daryl had moments before, she whispered to herself that everything was fine, that Daryl will be okay, but she knew she was lying to herself. That much was confirmed when she came upon the scene. A semi truck blocked the entrance to the main road, the front end dented in. That seemed to be the extent of the damage to the semi. The driver sat behind the wheel and though he seemed dazed, he looked unharmed.

Beth began to tremble. Coming on an accident seconds after it happened was jarring to say the least. But when it was someone you know, that changed everything. To her left was Daryl's truck. Tipped precariously on the edge of the ditch, barely resembling what was once a vehicle of any type.

Slamming on her breaks, sending the the jeep to a sharp halt, she was out of the door and running towards Daryl's mangled truck. The passenger side and roof were completely caved in. The hood was mangled and pushed in on one side, steam billowed from underneath. The smell of gasoline permeated the air. She ran over the dirt road, up over the ditch and rounding the truck to the drivers side.

He wasn't there.

"Daryl!" She meant to yell, but it came out in a frog like bellow.

Looking around she yelled louder this time, "Daryl!"

Pulling at the door that wouldn't budge, she peered through the broken window. There was hardly any room in the smashed in cab of the truck for a toddler, let alone a grown man. Crouching, she peered underneath the truck and then around the surrounding area. All tall grass and shrubbery, just like any other road, no sign of Daryl anywhere.

"Where are you?" She screamed. Tears, she didn't notice or care about, streamed down her face She had to find him. It scared her, terrified her, that she could no longer sense him. She couldn't feel his presence. Something she felt from the time she met him. It was akin to a constant hum. Not high pitched or annoying. Just there echoing in the center of her brain. Now, all she felt was silence. Total deafening, all encompassing silence.

She began to panic. Turning her back to the wreckage that lay before her, she yelled once more. There a few feet from the back of the truck was a mound of dirt, or what she thought was a mound of dirt. Inching towards the mound, her fears were realized when she saw it wasn't dirt. It was Daryl. The plaid of his flannel jacket was stained with dirt and grass. And blood.

"No," she moaned, stumbling over the uneven ground and falling at has body. He was laying on his stomach and gingerly she rolled him onto his back. His eyes were shut tight, his face bloodied, but she couldn't say where the blood was coming from. His arm hung at a weird angle and his leg was clearly twisted the wrong way.

Most disturbingly, she didn't think he was breathing. She bent over him, resting her head on his chest and she thought she heard a very faint, slow heartbeat. But he was not breathing.

"Daryl, wake up. Come on, beath, oh please. Just breath," she pleaded.

She placed her hands on his scruffy face, her tears falling onto him. "Daryl. You gotta wake up. I...I love you. Please," she begged his deaf ears.

Beth's hands drifted from his cheeks, fingers sprawled across Daryl's chest. The wind blew her hair away from her face, a white light shone from within. Her blue eyes fell light grey. A vibration rose from her hands. Her eyes closed as she allowed a force, a force she didn't understand, take over. She felt the impact, she felt what he felt. She felt the stillness within him. And though the stillness scared the hell out of her, she shoved it away and allowed the white light to penetrate Daryl's lifeless body.

. . .

Daryl blinked his eyes, once and then again.

Beth? How did Beth get here. And why wasn't he dead?

Her image doubled. Blinking again. It wasn't his eyes, he realized, playing tricks on him. There was Beth kneeling over him all right, but there was also another figure superimposed onto her. An image almost her identical. Both figures now held their hands on Daryl's chest, mouths moving in unison speaking words he was deaf to.

And then he began to shake and a bolt of what could only be explained as lightning shot through Beth and this other being, straight through to him knocking air though his lungs, sputtering out of his mouth.

Daryl's consciousness wavered, and he was tempted to let the darkness overtake him. Forcing the blackness away, he then focused on Beth, his lifeline in more ways than one. He lifted a weak hand to her cheek and Beth's eyes flew open at his touch. The other figure disappeared into a cloud of smoke and he was sure he was only hallucinating.

. . . 

Before Beth had a chance to speak to him, paramedics swooped down on them, assessing the situation asking her to back up. Her hands shook once they lost contact with Daryl, an emptiness bottoming out in her stomach.

"What's his name?" Asked one of the paramedics briskly, eyeing her curiously. A new panic layered on top of the panic she already felt. Had the paramedic, or anyone else, seen what she did? The ramifications could be disastrous if that were true.

"Daryl. His names Daryl Dixon." Her voice was watery, frightened. She backed away as they asked, watching as they put a brace on his neck, and slid him on a gurney.

"What'd you do? Was he breathing?" The paramedic asked.

"No, he wasn't breathing."

He eyed her skeptically, "Did you do CPR?"

"Uh, yes." Sure, that sounded reasonable. "Can I ride with?" She asked, it was obvious they would be taking him to the hospital.

"You his relation?" Asked the second paramedic, a big guy with dark hair.

"Uhh," she stammered. She was only his girlfriend, or _was_ his girlfriend before they fought. "No."

"Sorry ma'am. You can drive yourself to the hospital. We'll be taking him to King County General. Now please step away." They pulled the gurney up and legs with wheels unfolded down and they rushed him off the the waiting ambulance.

As though on autopilot Beth walked back to her jeep, more paramedics were attending to the truck driver who really did seem unharmed. She steered the jeep around the semi and squeezing in between it and the traffic that was becoming backed up due to the accident blocking the road, she drove onto the main road and in the direction of the hospital.

. . .

Beth sat in a stark white waiting room on uncomfortable blue plastic chair. The television in the corner was turned to a sitcom, the volume was thankfully turned down as a headache blared in between her temples. She shook uncontrollably and of course they wouldn't let her see Daryl. She wasn't 'family'.

A nurse, clearly taking pity on her, said they had stabilized him for the moment and once they were able, they would move him from the ER to the ICU.

The ICU. It made her want to sob. People didn't just walk away from being hit by a semi. Beth didn't only feel fear and panic, she felt Daryl's actual pain. Not to the extent he did, but she knew he was in bad shape. To top it off, she wouldn't be allowed to see him in the ICU either.

Thinking back to how upset he'd been before he left, it was probably for the better. Her presence would probably only upset him further.

As the hour dragged into to two, Beth decided no one was going to tell her anything further, and she probably needed to find a way to contact Merle and the only way she knew to do that was by contacting Aaron. Merle was probably at work, and Beth had no idea where that was. Starting with Aaron sounded like her safest bet.

Leaving the waiting room she climbed back in her Jeep and drove, to the best of her memory, to Aaron's. After getting turned around a time or two, she found herself in Aaron's driveway. Having no idea if he or Eric were home, though a shiny black Mustang was parked in the driveway. She took that to mean someone was there.

Following the path to the side entrance, she rose her hand. Much to her relief, she heard shuffling and then the disengagement of a lock before Aaron's face appeared in the open door. He smiled brightly, then taking in Beth's appearance, her face was puffy from crying, her clothes bloodied and dirty, his smile fell. 

"What is it?" He asked, a worried tone to his voice.

When she didn't answer, couldn't find the words to speak, he pulled her into the foyer and motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen where he retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator and pushed it into her hands. Taking her by the arm he sat her down at a bar stool at the granite topped island. She placed the bottle of water on top and placed her hands on either side of it, taking deep breaths.  

Unable to hold back the tears any longer, she rested her face in her hands and sobbed. Seeing Daryl in that way. Not breathing and body mangled, shook her to the core. He was so angry at her, she should've known better than to snoop in his business. If she hadn't then he wouldn't of taken off, they'd be spending the day together in bed. Wrapped in eachother's arms. Instead, Daryl had gotten angry and took off. Yes, she felt this was all her fault.

To his credit, sitting on the bar stool next to her, Aaron didn't shy away. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, murmuring comforting words into her hair until her tears subsided.

"Darlin, you got me worried. Please tell me what's wrong," he implored, releasing her and retrieving a paper towel from the dispenser that sat in the middle of the island.

Wiping her face, she took a breath. "It's Daryl," she began. Tears threatened to overtake her again. Swallowing them down, she said, "He's been in a terrible accident."

Aaron took a deep intake of breath, touching her on the knee. "What? Is he...is he okay?" Aaron was afraid to ask, afraid of what the answer would be.

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything. I'm not family. But he's in the ICU at King County General."

"Damn it!" Aaron slapped a hand down on the countertop, it's slapping sound echoed through the kitchen making Beth jump.

He stood then and made his way again to the foyer. "Come on, Beth. They'll tell me, even if they don't want to."

Beth followed him, stopping short of the door. "You go," she instructed Aaron. "He won't wanna see me." Her voice hiccuped with emotion again.

"That's crazy. I know you'll want to be the first person he see's."

Beth shook her head . "This is all my fault. I looked up his mother on the internet, wrote down her name and address. He found the piece of paper. He was so upset with me. He took off. It's all my fault," she said again.

Aaron reached for her hand, grasping it tightly. He waited for her to look at him again, and when she finally did, he spoke. "This isn't your fault. It just...happened. A freak accident. But I'm sure he'll want to see you. I've never seen him the way he is with you."

Beth shook her head, pulling her hand from Aaron and rounding him, opening the door. "Can you text me, let me know how he is though?"

"Are you sure?" He could read people well enough to know when they had their mind made up. Still, he wanted to be sure. He wasn't surprised when she nodded her head.

They exchanged numbers before Aaron left for the hospital and Beth headed back home.

Alone.

. . .

Daryl woke to blinding light once again. Thinking maybe, hoping maybe, he was back at Aaron's passed out after drinking his weight in Whiskey. He closed his eyes fully before opening them again. Just as he feared, he wasn't at Aaron's. Judging by the bright walls, the large window to his right which was the culprit of the unholy brightness, as well as the beep, beep, beep of some machine he guessed he was in a hospital room. He closed his eyes, he didn't want to face whatever reality that lay before him. If the way his body felt was any indication of his condition, he didn't _want_ to wake up just yet.

He remembered it all. Remembered wanting to go back to Beth's. To apologize. Grovel if he had to. He wasn't expecting to get t-boned by an eighteen wheeler. And, of course, he wasn't belted in so when the truck flipped and the door flew open, he was ejected from his seat and flung onto the embankment, the truck coming to a halt mere feet from him. Then and only then did he lose consciousness.

Everything hurt. Parts of his body he didn't even know to exist seared with pain. His head pounded, his arm throbbed, his leg felt odd and misaligned. This was how he knew he wasn't dead. He'd figured if he were dead, he wouldn't feel anything, right?

Looking around the room, he found Merle asleep sitting upright in the chair next to the bed. His temple resting on this fist, his elbow resting on the armrest. It even hurt speak and when he finally got the words out, they croaked barely audible.

"Merle?" Waiting a second he tried again, scrounging up the energy and strength to speak a little louder.

Merle finally stirred, his normally tired face looked worn, exhausted. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes, his pallor was pale. But he cracked a small unsure smile as he leaned in, "Hey brother. How you feelin?"

In Daryl's lifetime Merle had never asked how he was feeling. He figured that must've meant he was in worse shape than he felt. 

Daryl moved to shrug his shoulder in response, causing a pain to shoot through his whole body, bouncing from one area to the next. "What happened," he croaked out.

"You was in a hell of accident, that's what. Damn near killed yo'self."

"Where's Beth?" She had been there, hadn't she? Or had he imagined that as well as the other woman that was with her? It was all so blurry now. Except for the pain. The pain was real and the more awake he became the more pain he felt. He was beginning to wish he had died.

"I don't know where she is," Merle told him. Then noticing the grimace of pain on his face, he asked "What? What is it?" He actually left his chair and stood next to Daryl placing a hand on his shoulder. Daryl moved his eyes to where Merle's hand rested. Yep, he must be really bad off.

"Pain meds?" or a bullet to the head. Whichever would make this surmounting pain go away.

"Yeah, man. I'll go get the nurse." And Merle disappeared through a wide wooden door.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, panic began to surge. What if he didn't live through this? Judging by the pain he felt, he didn't know how he would. He fought the urge to bolt, but only because he knew he couldn't. His legs refused to fucking move and everything else hurt too badly to even lift a finger.

Shortly Merle returned with a nurse who quickly administered something into his IV drip that made his mind go fuzzy and his eyes heavy and soon he was drifting off into blessed darkness.


	19. Woebegone

Thanks so much for reading!

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_**Woebegone** : (adj.) sad or miserable in appearance_

_. . ._

Beth retreated from life. Locked herself in her house. She had no television, so she watched movies and mindless tv series on Netflix using her laptop. She avoided her phone and email. She felt as though she'd been in a car accident herself, or like she had an ever lasting flu. Her body ached, sleep evaded her, she was an emotional mess. She canceled on the few clients she had the coming week and became a hermit.

She laid low all day until the wee hours of the night when she would sleepily climb into her Jeep and drive to the hospital. Daryl was still in intensive care and she was still not allowed to see him, so she sat in the waiting room. Feeling that much closer to him even if he was not aware she was there. Aaron had kept her updated on his condition, but even the hospital was being tight lipped with him. And Merle was even more evasive. The consensus seemed to be that Daryl was lucky to be alive, that much was clear.

He'd yet to ask for her, though, according to Aaron he was still pretty out of it. Conscious moments being few and far between. It relieved and upset her at the same time. She had hope that he still wanted her until he woke up and claimed otherwise.

Tonight was the fifth night she had come to the hospital to sit in the almost always empty waiting room specified for families of loved ones on the ICU floor. She couldn't really say why she came here, not being able to see him. She just did it. Like the million other things she did or felt or said that held no explanation.

Being here was difficult, and not just for the obvious reason. Here she could feel everyone's pain, everyone's fear, everyone's sickness. She stayed until it became too much, then she would flee. Returning back home to her self imposed house arrest.

"Back again?" A nurse startled her back from the thoughts that overran her mind.

Nurse Michonne, with her long dark dreaded hair and kind eyes, was one of the few night shift nurses. She always paid particular attention to Beth. Always asking how she was feeling, never wondering why she came to the hospital to just sit in the waiting room like the other nurses did.

Beth spoke quietly, "Yep, I am. How are you tonight Mrs. Grimes?"

"Michonne," she corrected Beth. "I'm well."

Surprising Beth, she joined her. Sitting on the hard plastic chair next to her, stretching out her long legs, leaning back against the hard back of the chair. "Ugh, my breaks are never long enough."

"I'll bet. It's gotta be hard working the night shift."

Beth inadvertently felt Michonne's tiredness. She and her husband had a baby. Well, it was her husband's baby, though Michonne loved her like her own. By the way Beth's back teeth vibrated, she guessed the baby was teething and keeping them up at night and fussing during the day. Beth forced herself onto something else. She did not read people unless they wanted to be read.

"Ture that," Michonne said, leaning her head back against the wall that lined the chairs, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"How is he?" Beth asked, knowing Michonne couldn't tell her much. She'd take any information she had to give.

"He's...tough."

Beth pursed her lips, that much she knew.

"He's pretty out of it. Been sleeping a lot thanks to the pain medication. That's what he needs right now. It'll help his body heal."

Beth was going to ask her more questions, perching on the edge of chair, Michonne spoke again, "Well, I think I'm gonna go get a can of Coke from the vending machine, maybe that'll wake me up a bit. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you though."

"Okay then. So, I'm going to go to the other end of the unit, get my Coke and it looks like the other nurse is dealing with a particular fussy patient. She'll probably be busy for another," Michonne looked at the watch wrapped around her thin wrist, "oh, ten minutes or so."

Beth eyed Michonne curiously. Why was she telling her all of this?

"Whatever you do, do not think of sneaking into Mr. Dixon's room, because no one will be around to make sure you're not somewhere you shouldn't be."

Michonne looked back at Beth speaking earnestly with her eyes. It took Beth a good forty-five seconds before she caught on.

"Oh, no. I would never do that," she told Michonne, holding back the smile that cracked her lips for the first time in a week.

The woman nodded and blinked so briefly Beth wasn't sure if she had actually winked instead. Michonne stood, stretching one more time, she walked from the room. Sending a sly smile to Beth through the windows separating the waiting area and the hall before disappearing down the corridor.

Beth wasted no time, sparing a glance up and down the hallway before practically running to Daryl's room two doors down. Soundlessly, she turned the knob to the right and peaked her head around the door, slipping into the room.

A stark fluorescent light shone brightly from the bathroom, the door halfway open allowing the light to shine in the room. The partition curtain was partly pulled closed and Beth hesitated only a brief moment before pushing the curtain back, and there was Daryl lying motionless in the hospital bed, a light weight blanket was rumpled at his feet. IV's ran from both arms as well as his left hand. Wrapped around his shoulder was a bright blue sling and she didn't have to look to know his legs were braced as well underneath the hospital issued pajama bottoms he wore. A gown opened at his chest. Through the opening in between the ties, she noticed his midsection was also wrapped tightly in brown gauze.

Beth's heart broke for him. Being this close to him the pain he felt magnified through her body and she fought back tears. Reaching out she brushed back his shaggy hair from his forehead, it seemed to grow significantly in the short time she had last seen him. His face was scruffy in an almost full beard. Through her tears, she was thankful to feel the hum of his presence alive and well in her mind.

She leaned over the barrier of the bed railing, looking over his face, she whispered, "I'm so sorry. For everything."

Daryl's eyes fluttered, his head moved slightly. Cupping his cheek, she leaned in closer.

"Daryl?" Beth questioned.

Opening his eyes, his foggy stare looked her over. And then he breathed out her name, "Beth?"

"Yes, I'm here," tears streamed quietly down her face.

Daryl reached up his good arm, brushing lightly at her hand that clung tightly to the bed railing. In that brief second, all was right. She knew he would be okay. He was Daryl. And she was Beth.

Then his eyes peered at her, focusing intently. "You shouldn't be here," his voice was groggy with misuse.

She wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that. "I know. I'll leave in a minute, I just wanted to see you."

"You shouldn't be here," he repeated, closing his eyes. "Don't want you to see me this way."

"I'm so sorry you're hurt. It's all my fault."

"Go," he said a bit more forcibly, shifting his head away from where her hand cupped his cheek, wincing at the effort.

"But," she began, unsure of what to say next. They only had a few minutes to begin with, and now he was reacting angrily. Even in his weakened condition, she felt the anger radiating from him. She snatched her hand back as though she'd been burned.

"Get out," he growled.

The last thing she wanted was to upset him, so she whispered, "Okay, I'll go. I'll come back though."

"Don't," was his last word before his eyes drifted solidly closed.

Beth backed away and through the door, not bothering to see if any of the nurses or other workers were milling about. Rounding the corner to exit the ICU unit, she wiped frustratingly at the tears flowing down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath trying to get her emotions under control, she jumped when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, forcing her to stop.

Briefly she wondered what would happen to a person that snuck into a patient's room. Really, she reasoned, the repercussions couldn't be _that_ bad. She didn't really care at this point.

"Ma'am." The voice was male, authoritative.

There was no way of escaping, so she she turned to face him. Immediately she began explaining. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't of gone in the room, but..."

"Uh huh," the man nodded unsympathetically. "What's your name?"

"Beth Greene," she answered. Standing a little straighter. She may of been caught, she didn't have to cower.

The man's face lit up. "Ms. Greene?"

For the first time Beth really looked at him. He was a little taller than her, wiry thin, wearing a black leather jacket with jeans and white tennis shoes. He didn't look like a hospital employee. Maybe he was security? This whole situation seemed off to Beth. She took a step back, out from under his grasp still clinging to her shoulder.

"Who want's to know?"

"You're not an easy person to track down," the man said in a distinct southern accent.

"I'm not?" This was news to her. Yes, she lived further out of town than the average person, but she had a website and public email, though she hadn't checked it since the accident.

"Yes, you are. So you are, in fact, Beth Greene?"

She was hesitant to answer. "Why do you need to know?"

"Name's Gareth West. I work for Atlanta Tonight." He paused before continuing. "It's an entertainment talk show out of Atlanta." He stood expectantly, as though she was supposed to be impressed. "You've never seen it?"

He did not work for the hospital? Then she refused to waste her time on him. Purposefully she said, "Nope, never heard of it. Now, if you'll excuse me." Turning on her heal, she made her way to the exit and the main hallway where there were bound to be more people.

He sidestepped her, standing in front of her, blocking her path. "According to one of the paramedics that attended the accident of a Mr. Daryl Dixon a week ago, he was dead when you arrived. They said he wasn't breathing."

Fear traced down Beth's spine and she took a step back even though it took her further into the ICU hallway.

"You told him that you proceeded to do CPR. Is that right?"

"Uh huh. I did." Which, of course, she hadn't but she wasn't going to tell this ambulance chaser anything to the contrary.

"Only thing is, that parmatic did not see you do CPR."

"So? He wasn't there."

"What he did see was," the reporter continued like Beth hadn't spoken, retrieving a notepad out of his coat pocket, flipping through the pages until he came to the correct one and began to read in a dull verbative tone, "the woman placed her hands on his chest and bright light surrounding them both, then the man jerked and appeared to breath again."

The man, Gareth, looked at Beth expectantly.

"I don't know what he _thought_ he saw," Beth began. She didn't like where this conversation was heading.

Sure, plenty of people knew she was psychic, she even advertised herself as so. But if word ever got out that she was able to heal with her own hands as well, her life would forever be changed. And not for the better. She could see it now. People coming from all over, begging, pleading for her to heal their grandmother, or their father and their baby who had been diagnosed with a terminal disease. And worse yet, what if she couldn't heal them? She kept that part of herself secret for a reason. Occasionally helping someone in secret was different than having her name out in a public form: _Beth Greene, Healer_. No, that couldn't happen.

Some would deem her selfish for not helping everyone she might be able to help. She was willing to admit that might be true.

"He was pretty certain. Was actually quite shaken up about it."

"So shaken up about it he ran to the nearest blood thirsty reporter?" Beth countered.

"Listen, we are going to run the story with or without your side, so..." he threatened.

"You can't use my name..." she stated, though she had no idea if that was true or not. Rounding him again, she definitely walked to the exit doors. Her tears for Daryl long dried up. Her cheeks now flared with anger.

"Are you a healer, Ms. Greene?"

She stopped, her hands on the door handle, over her shoulder she glared at him. "No. I am not," she lied.

She owed this man, a stranger, nothing. Then, she pushed her way through the large metal doors and didn't look back until she heard them clasp back shut behind her.

. . .

Daryl floated in and out of consciousness for the next week. Pain always on the surface when he did come out of his opiate induced sleep, so he'd much rather just stay asleep. When he did unfortunately wake, either Merle or Aaron was sitting in the chair next to his bed. Sometimes he was alone though, and that was the way he preferred it.

No Beth, which didn't surprise him. After the way he'd treated her the last time at her house, he wouldn't of been surprised if she ran for the hills. He tried to convince himself it was best that way. He didn't want her to see him this way. Laid up in bed, damaged beyond what seemed to be repair. She hadn't signed on for that. An invalid boyfriend to take care of.

One downfall of his perpetual nap was that his dreams were haunted by Beth. By her hair, by her laugh, by her smile. He could've swore he woke to her one night standing over him. That didn't happen, though. Did it? When he woke, he caught her scent, springtime mixed with the lemon-honey of her shampoo, as though she had actually been there. He'd search the darkened room with his eyes only to find no one there. His chest constricted with the absence of her from his life.

The doctor had said he'd be in the hospital for weeks, probably a few months at least. And after his hospital stay, he'd need physical therapy. He'd broken both legs, his left was much worse having taken the brunt of the force from the driver's side door. They were bandaged in tight stents, which gave him the panicked feeling of not being able to move his legs. He would need surgery as soon as he was strong enough. Besides his legs, he'd also broke six ribs, his clavicle, and fractured his wrist as well as many other cuts and contusions throughout his body. The doctor had said he was lucky to be alive. He didn't' feel that way.

He was determined to get on his feet again. Out of this hell hole and back to Beth. He'd beg, borrow, and steal just to have her in his arms again. But not yet. Not until he was recovered.


	20. la douleur exquise

**I took some liberties on how fast someone heals and is released from the hospital after an accident like Daryl had, but I didn't want there to be too much of a time span between then and now** **.**

**And this is fiction. And I can do that. lol**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please, hang in there with me.**

* * *

_**la douleur exquise** : (n.) the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone or something unattainable._

_. . ._

Beth did her best to hold back to the tears as she drove away from her home. Her favorite place in the world, other than Daryl's arms which she hadn't felt in more than two months time. Ever since the accident. Stealing a quick look in the rearview mirror, rounding the curve in the road, she watched as the house disappeared behind the trees. She was leaving a piece of herself there in hopes that one day she'd be able to return.

She hoped she wasn't lying to herself.

Panic quipped in the pit of her stomach, as it always did since the accident, when she came to the stop sign leading to the main road and the tire tracks were still visible on the road. The overgrown shrubbery still matted down and the ground tore up from where Daryl's truck somersaulted down and back up over the ditch. Due to the time of night, there was no traffic and she was able to get through the intersection quickly.

Daryl refused to see her, practically kicking her out of his hospital room. And even though Aaron, her only contact close to Daryl, said he was healing surprisingly well, Daryl had yet to contact her. So, she guessed he wasn't planning on it. And then that weasel Gareth aired the story on that nothing short of a tabloid television show of his. He didn't use her name, but showed her website, which was completely legal apparently because it was a public domain. With the use of the internet and Google being what it is, it didn't take long for people to find her.

And find her they did. With a vengeance. At first the hits on her website hit an all time high, then her email inbox filled within the week and then, the worst part - just as she suspected, people began showing up at her door. She helped who she could, but there quickly came a point when she hit a mental wall. Healing meant digging deep down into herself, leaving her exhausted and empty, a shell of her former self which had already been depleted after Daryl's accident. Never being the type of person to jump back quickly after any emotional upheaval in her life, healing others took a chunk of her away. She began to feel herself slipping away. Migraines sent her to bed for a days at a time. Nausea overtook her. Light stung her eyes and she began to dread another knock on her door, which was almost becoming non-stop.

What was most torturous for Beth was when she wasn't able to help the person standing in front of her, essentially begging her to fix them. The average person did not understood the intricacies of healing. Not all the time was she able to actually heal someone of their ailment, especially feeling depleted as she was. Most often, it helped the person deal with their condition, maybe understand what or why this was happening to them. More instances than not, the person did not see it this way. If the person was not healed, they sometimes became belligerent and angry. Coming back to her demanding that she heal them this time. Instantaneous healing, such as what she did for Daryl when he lie dead in that ditch, didn't happen as often as one hoped.

On top of all this, because of her strong ethics, she was uncomfortable asking for payment for a healing, not that many people offered. While the house was paid for, the little money she had saved up was dwindling fast as she was not able to do her regular line of work, or even do regular things like grocery shop as people followed her wherever she went.

She placed a call to the police station, short of hiring her own private bodyguard, little could be done other than calling them every time someone trespassed onto her property. Those who did come to her weren't inherently bad, they were just desperate. Calling the police on them seemed wrong.

. . .

Exhausted and feeling more than a little lost she fell into an exhausted fitful sleep one afternoon with her phone pressed into her hand. She had called Daryl for what must of been the millionth time in the last month or so. Of course his phone was trashed in the accident and her calls went straight to his voicemail. Just a auto-recorded message telling her to leave a message. It wasn't even his voice, yet it strangely made her feel an inkling better before plunging back into depression.

When she woke up minutes, hours, a day later - she really didn't know or care, she heard her sister's voice echoing through the grogginess. It took a moment to realize her sister's voice was coming through the phone in her hands. Slowly, with heavy arms, she put the phone to her ear.

"Maggie?"

"Beth?"

"Yeah?" Sitting up, she sat cross-legged on her bed and ran a hand through her hair that was in much need of a wash. Looking at the clock on the end table, the bright green numbers read 5:00 p.m. She had only slept a couple hours, it was now dark though, and she felt confused. Her mind muddled.

"You called me, sister."

"I did?" For some reason she pulled the phone back from her ear and peered at it suspiciously. She was sure she hadn't called Maggie, certain it must of been her ghost friend. The spector never really left her alone. Beth didn't mind. At least she had someone, or something, with her. It was somehow familiar, comforting, having her there.

"You sound like hell. What's going on?"

Maggie knew nothing of Daryl's accident until she caught wind of the television show that had featured Beth. When they spoke after the show aired, Beth did her best to not let on just how desperate her situation had become. Now, she was too tired to pretend.

"Maggie, I don't know what to do..." Beth broke, telling Maggie with stops and starts through sobs all that had conspired. All the people she could not help. Her financial problems. Her physical health declining.

Maggie didn't hesitate when she asked, or moreso told, her to come stay with her and Glenn. Beth didn't hesitate to accept either, knowing this was what she needed. Not only financially but emotionally as well.

She packed up her life surprisingly quickly. Two months and six days since Daryl's accident she was skipping town at midnight, hoping no one would see her or worse yet, follow her.

. . .

Daryl was released from the hospital the week before and was about to go stir crazy. Unable to work, or do much else, he slept most of the day away thanks to the pain pills the doctors prescribed him a bit too readily. He had yet to call Beth, though he figured at this point she had gone on with her life, leaving him in the distant past. He felt as though he would never be fully healed, so he thought he was doing them both a favor by staying away. It was better this way. A dark cloak of depression descended over him that he couldn't shake. No sense dragging her down with him.

Using what little force he had left, he pushed up off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. He was supposed to use a walker, but he refused and just pulled his left leg along behind him. His right leg had healed almost completely and though the doctors weren't sure, they had said his left leg may be permanently damaged, leaving him with limp. He'd had two minor surgeries to repair the damage. They could try more surgeries, but there were no guarantees as to whether they'd be successful or not.

He hurt all over, even with the painkillers, though the ache in his body was nothing compared to the ache he felt in his chest for Beth. He was terribly uncomfortable. The strap to the sling he wore around his shoulder itched at his neck. The brace he wore on his right leg cut into his skin no matter how many times he adjusted it. The cast that ran from his groin to the ankle of his left leg was heavy and cumbersome. He worried maybe he was going mad. He felt as though he could pull off his own skin, claw out his own eyeballs. Anger surged through him for no reason.

Once in the kitchen he retrieved a beer from the refrigerator and placed it onto the counter. With some struggle he was able to pop the top with his good arm and leaning against the lip of the counter he drained the can with a few gulps. Bringing the can back down with a loud rattle, he belched loudly, his eyes watering with the sting of alcohol. Because he hadn't ate enough to keep a rat alive since he'd been home, his mind began to buzz pleasantly, loosening the knots in his shoulders, dulling his senses that seemed to be on overdrive.

He retrieved two more cans of beer, bypassing the leftover chicken casserole Erin had made and left for him when they had stopped in the day before. He took them back to the sofa and plopped back down, propping his leg up on a low foot stool. Taking one of the bottles of pain medications that lay on the tray next to him, he popped the lid with his thumb and spilled a handful onto the couch cushion next to him. His fingers worked dumbly as he picked up three pills, tossing them into his mouth, he washed them down with the next can of beer. He drank that beer only a little slower than the first, followed by the next until he eyes became heavy and sleep engulfed him.

. . .

Driving down Maggie's driveway was like coming home, though she never lived there. It was the only familiarity, other than her own home, that she knew in this world. And when Maggie met her on the porch steps, a bright light shining above the door behind her, baby Hershel on her hip, she felt more calm than she had in the two months since Daryl's accident. This was the right move for the right time. Or it was the best move she could come up with. Either way, she'd take it.

Greeting Maggie and her nephew with a hug, Maggie tucked her wayward hair behind Beth's ear and leaned her forehead to her own. "You look rough," Maggie told her.

"Gee, thanks."

Pulling back, Maggie lightly patted her cheek. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too. And how's Mr. Man? What are you doin' up?" Beth asked of her nephew. She visited as often as time allowed, but he grew like a weed between each visit. Taking him into her arms and onto her hip, she was thankful he went willingly and giggled happily when she nuzzled the cloud soft skin of his neck.

"Well, incase you haven't heard, babies aren't known for sleeping much. Or at all in this one's case." she said with a tired smile. "Come on in."

Beth followed Maggie through the door and into the kitchen, and Maggie asked, "Want some coffee?"

Sliding onto the bench seat of the kitchen table, Beth placed Hershel onto her lap, "Maggie, it's after midnight."

"Oh, I'm all keyed up now that you're here. Besides, I want to hear everything," she spoke as she fitted the coffee maker with a new filter and filled it with two heaping spoonfuls of grounds.

. . .

They talked into the wee hours of the morning with a sleeping Hershel resting comfortably snuggled in Beth's arms. Glenn had shuffled in at one point when their laughter had roused him from sleep. His hair a tousled mess, he had given Beth a sleepy smile and warm hug then shuffled back to bed.

Just as Beth was going to suggest Maggie get some rest, Maggie finally asked, "So, that show? Atlanta Tonight? That was pretty..." Maggie searched for the right word.

"Horrible?" Beth filled in for her. "At least I'm guessing it was. I haven't watched it."

"Uh huh. Horrible. I did watch it, though," Maggie confessed. "On YouTube. I was curious at just how much information they gave out about you."

Curiosity got the best of Beth and she asked. "Just how bad was it?"

Sighing, Maggie rounded her hands around her cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago. "It was a circus. They were talking about people's ability to heal. They had other healers on as guests. Though I question their authenticity. Then they interviewed the paramedic that started this whole fiasco. And some guy named Shane that claims to know you, and..."

"Shane?" Beth questioned, feeling herself heat with anger. Before going on, she took a deep breath in order to not disturb Hershel.

"You _do_ know him?" Maggie asked, shocked. "He told a story about how you found Daryl's brother, Marty?"

Swallowing visibly, Beth clarified, "Merle."

"Right. He was missing, and you knew where to find him. That Shane guy said you used your 'voodoo powers' to find him."

"God," Beth groaned, leaning her head on her hand.

"This really happened?" Maggie questioned and Beth filled her in on what happened that night Merle went missing.

"What a jackass," she said speaking of Shane. "You did a good thing finding him."

"He is a jackass," Beth agreed.

After a lull in conversation, Maggie asked, "So, no word from Daryl?"

Beth rearranged the sleeping baby in her arms, peering adoringly at his sweet little cherub face, "No," she spoke quietly.

"And you haven't tried contacting him?"

Shrugging, she said, "He told me to leave him alone."

Maggie's eyes grew marginally, "When did he tell you that?"

"At the hospital," Beth had already told Maggie about how Nurse Grimes had allowed her to sneak into his hospital room the night that Gareth had tracked her down and left out how Daryl had reacted to her being there.

After thinking for a moment, Maggie said, "Aw, Beth. He was heavily sedated. Probably had no idea what he was talkin' 'bout."

She shook her head, "He knew. Besides, once he found out about the show, which I'm sure he has by now," she said speaking of Atlanta Tonight, "I'm sure he want's nothing to do with me."

"You can't be so sure. He knows of your abilities, he knows what you're about. I mean, sure, he got spooked," she conceded, "but you said he cared for you."

"People change their minds," she tried to simplify what he could be thinking.

Sighing, Maggie stood and rounded the table reaching down for the baby, which Beth begrudgingly gave him up. He temporarily filled the void she physically felt in her arms, giving her something sweet and pure to focus on.

Maggie hefted the baby up into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder. "Maybe you shouldn't give up so easily. I've never seen you so crushed over a guy before."

Before Beth had a chance at a rebuttal, Maggie lifted her free hand, stifling whatever she was going to say, "Go get some sleep, take a shower, I'll make you a decent meal in a few hours, then decide what you're gonna do. But don't decide right now while you are in such a low place."

. . .

Daryl was dreaming about Beth, of course. He couldn't get away from her no matter how hard he tried. She was always on his mind. If he were being honest, he really didn't mind. She was the light at the end of his dark tunnel. In this dream he was holding her tightly, she smiled up at him as though nothing was wrong, a glimpse of what maybe could be. Unfortunately, she began to fade, vaporizing into thin air and he was left alone again.

Why had he been so stupid? Why hadn't he just heard her out, let her explain herself as to why she looked up his mother's address in the first place. She was only trying to hep. He was just being stubborn and bullheaded allowing pride to run his life. He had to get to her, but his body wouldn't cooperate, his limbs heavy and unresponsive. Then he heard Aaron's voice. Far off at first then closer, growing louder with urgency.

"Daryl, wake up!"

Through the haze of oxycontin and alcohol induced sleepiness, he could hear a tinge of panic in Aaron's voice. _What the hell?_ he wondered to himself, trying to fight off sleep.

"What the hell did you do?" Aaron asked.

Sleep held a firm grasp on his consciousness, Daryl could not force himself to wake up. Though his body was numbed, he felt a soul crushing panic seer through him. What had he done?

Again, he heard Aaron's panicked voice. "Yes, please send an ambulance to 442 Rural Route 8. My cousin, I think he mixed pain medication and alcohol. No, he's not responding. Yes, please hurry. Daryl! Daryl can you hear me? Wake up!"

That was the last thing hel remembered before Aaron's voice slid further and further away, until he fell completely back under the spell of unconsciousness.


	21. Alpas

**_Didn't want to leave you all hanging again, so, while I have the next chapter almost done, I wanted to post this one. The next should be up in the next couple days. Thank you for reading/commenting!_ **

* * *

_**Alpas** : (V.) To become free, to break loose._

_. . ._

Beth took Maggie's advice the night she arrived, going to bed in their spare room and sleeping for hours. It was the best sleep she'd had since everything went to hell. Of course when she woke, she was still not with Daryl, but her situation didn't seem quite so gloomy. Fortunately people had short attention spans, and she felt they would soon forget about her. Hoping once she laid low for a while, she'd be able to return home. She already decided to no longer continue her work as a psychic. It was too much for her mentally, taking a toll on her body, mind and spirit. It interfered too much with her life. Though she mourned the idea of letting go of that part of her existence, she just couldn't do it any longer. Plain and simple. Maybe she'd be able to find work as a tutor since she was once a teacher, or maybe she would explore a whole new profession completely.

Until then, she found a job waiting tables at the pizza parlor Glenn owned. That way she was able to make some quick money while living with Maggie and Glenn. An added bonus was they lived in separate town completely and no one seemed to recognize her.

Daryl remained on her mind, though she continuously tried to keep him at bay. It wasn't easy, it took a herculean effort to push him from her mind every time he appeared, which seemed to happen multiple times in a minute. Still, she was determined to no longer sit around and feel sorry for herself. She had to do _something_ , even if it meant going from minute to minute, putting one foot in front of the next. Doing whatever it was that needed to be done next.

Today, the next thing that needed to be done was work. Laying on the bed in the spare bedroom she had taken over, she zipped her jeans that were getting tighter, a contribution of Maggie's cooking, she knew. Buttoning them up, she sat up with a grunt. She slid on a loose fitting shirt in preparation for the lunch shift at Glenn's Pizzeria.

But, just like every morning in the past couple weeks, she was hit by a wave of nausea. Sitting back on the bed, she took deep breaths. Waiting, hoping, it'll pass. And when it didn't she, as quietly as she could so as not to alert Maggie, quickly went into the bathroom, turning on the faucet to hide the sound, Beth threw up what was left in her belly from last night's dinner.

The episode left her sweating and drained. Sitting quietly on the floor, afraid to move not wanting to provoke another wave of nausea. Without looking up from the tiled flooring, the coolness seeping through her jeans, she reached up in search of a square or two of toilet paper to wipe her mouth and damp forehead. All that was left was the empty roll. Slowly, she scooted over to the cabinet under the sink where the extra toilet paper was kept. Taking out the the four pack package of toilet paper, a box fell from behind it, landing with a thud on the bottom of the cabinet. She reached into the cabinet to replace the box upright among the various bathroom cleaners and extra sopa, it's embossed black letters catching her attention. The words blared at her like a siren, pulsating red. Blinking to refocus her eyes, she read the now black writing: EPT. Beth took the box out and held it in her hands.

Reading the smaller print, it said _Early Pregnancy Test, results up to two weeks before your missed period_. She began to shake again. Technically she had missed _two_ periods. She was hoping it was late because of stress, but as time went on she was beginning to doubt that theory. And then when the regular bouts of nausea began, it was becoming harder and harder to deny what was now right in her face.

The nausea wasn't due to stress. The tightness of her clothes weren't because of Maggie's cooking. The exhaustion she felt before she came to Maggie's she was now willing to concede may of been more than the excessive healing she had been doing. All the little clues began to fall into place.

. . .

I didn't try to fuckin' kill myself, Aaron. Don't ya' know me any better than that?" Daryl asked, his patience wearing thin from having to explain that he wasn't suicidal to everyone on staff at King County General. The nurses, the doctors, the on staff psychologist.

Though Aaron looked reluctant to believe him, he nodded his head. "Yes, I know you better than that. But why did you do that? Everyone knows you're not supposed to mix alcohol and pain medication."

He rolled his good shoulder, "I don't know." And he honestly didn't. He just hadn't been thinking clearly. "I didn't used to be such a lightweight," he tried to joke, the joke falling flat.

Daryl shifted in the reclined hospital bed. This was the last place he wanted to be again. And he _hadn't_ meant to end up here. He wanted the pain to stop and to drown every thought of Beth from his head.

"I didn't mean to scare you, I 'polgize for that. Really," he sincerely grumbled to Aaron. The doctor had said it was a good thing Aaron had shown up when he did, and Daryl appreciated his timing more than Aaron knew.

Aaron sighed and pulled a plastic chair up to Daryl's bedside. "I know you don't like it when I get all 'mushy', as you put it. But I care about you. You're my family. So, tell me what the hell's going on with you? This isn't like you. Laying around. Feeling sorry for yourself. Drinking heavily." Aaron was aware of Daryl's aversion to becoming like his father and his avoidance of drinking too much for that simple reason.

"I ain't feelin' sorry for myself," Daryl bristled.

Then when Aaron raised an eyebrow in response he looked away and grumbled an admittance. "Okay, maybe I'm feelin' a little sorry for myself."

"Uh huh," Aaron agreed. "So, what is it?"

"Nothin'. I mean, I almost died. You don't just bounce back from something like that."

"I understand that." Aaron's voice took on an placating tone that normally would piss Daryl off. Today, though, he was too exhausted to be pissed after the hospital staff pumped his stomach and he slept off and on for the last forty-eight hours.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but maybe you should call Beth."

Aaron hadn't brought her up because he knew it would upset Daryl and he didn't want to do that. Now, he was going to play every last card he had to shake Daryl from the dangerous funk he was in.

"Come on, man," Daryl intoned, rolling his eyes.

"No," Aaron interrupted. "You and I both know underneath all of this is Beth. All the mopping, the drinking too much, the popping pain meds like candy. It's because you miss Beth. And that scares you."

Daryl rolled his eyes because he had nothing to say in return. Aaron spoke the truth. He'd be damned if he'd admit it, though.

"Why are you being so stubborn? We both know she's the best thing to happen to you. So what if she looked up your mother's address?"

Daryl's eyes shot up to Aaron.

"Oh, don't look so surprised that I know. She was only trying to help and your using it as a way to push her away. Hell, you're not even pushing her away, you've erased her from your life completely."

"That ain't true. She coulda' called me. 'Sides, she don't care 'bout me."

"How can you say that? Number 1 - Your phone was crushed in the accident remember? She had no way to get a hold of you. And number 2 - Damn it, Daryl, she does care for you," Aaron insisted. "If she didn't care, she wouldn't of sat night after night in the ICU waiting room knowing she wasn't allowed to see you."

Daryl eyed him suspiciously, "What the hell you talkin' 'bout."

"She came here and sat in that waiting room," Aaron said, pointing to the upper floors where the ICU ward was located. "Sat there just to be nearer to you."

Panic ripped at Daryl's already sore and acidic stomach. Had he really seen her that night? It wasn't a dream afterall? He tried to remember. Had she really been in his room? It was all so fuzzy. Had he really told her to leave?

"Son of a bitch," Daryl mumbled to himself.

"Yeah, I'd say you have some explaining to do."

. . .

Five minutes later, Beth was perched on the edge of the bathtub holding a positive pregnancy test in her hand. Two pink stripes stared at her with pointed resolve.

A knock at the bathroom door had her standing quickly, a wave of dizziness overcame her and she promptly sat back down.

"Beth, you 'bout ready? Glenn's leaving in a few. Said you can ride with him if you want."

Clearing her throat, Beth found her voice squeaky and small, "Yeah, I'll be out in a second."

"You decent? I gotta' give Hershel a bath. He decided to feed himself breakfast today. Got food everywhere but his mouth."

Standing once again, this time slower, through the door Maggie could be heard talking quietly to Hershel. She looked around the small bathroom trying to find a place to hide the test, but she wasn't quick enough. Maggie entered with Hershel on her hip. Sure enough he had something green and sticky all over his face, hair and hands, as well as his clothes.

Maggie eyed Beth, her line of vision falling on the pregnancy test she still held in her hand. "Beth?" She questioned. "What's goin' on?"

"I...um," because of her lack of words, she showed Maggie the test.

Maggie's eyes widened, taking the test into her free hand and looking more closely at it. "Holy shi..."

"Uh huh," Beth agreed.

"Is it..." she began, not wanting to hurt her sister's feelings or offend her integrity. However, she asked anyway. "Is it Daryl's?"

"Of course it is," Beth answered. Snatching the test from Maggie, she rounded her and went out into the hall and then back into her bedroom, Maggie close on her her heels.

Tossing the test into her bag, swinging it up onto her shoulder, she grabbed her cell phone where it was placed on the end table. Slipping on her shoes, she made her way toward the hall again, but Maggie blocked her path.

"What are you gonna' do?"

"What do you mean? I'm goin' to work."

"Work? Beth you've got to tell Daryl. It's not fair to keep this from him."

"Listen, I found out myself about 5 seconds ago, so if you could give me a minute to process this, that'd be great."

Right at that moment, she surprisingly felt calm. The initial shock was beginning to wane and just as she had been doing in the past months since Daryl's accident, she put one foot in front of the next. Doing the very next thing that needed to be done. Right at that moment, she had to go to work.

While it was only a temporary waitressing gig, it was still a responsibility she took seriously. She didn't want to let Glenn down. He was expecting her to be there, so she would be. Right now, she was not able to focus on Daryl and what this all meant.

"Beth," Maggie said softly, grabbing her by the wrist just before she slipped past her. "Whatever happens. Know that I'm here for you. And the baby."

_The baby?_ Wow. _Yes, a positive pregnancy test usually meant a baby would result_ , Beth internally told herself.

Beth searched Maggie's eyes, tears surprisingly shown in her eyes. Before Maggie had the baby she rarely cried, now it seemed she cried at the drop of a hat. Still, Beth was moved by her sisters solidarity.

"Thank's Maggie," she said, giving her and Hershel a quick hug before she went to the living room where Glenn waited for her.

. . .

It took a few days for Daryl to get permission to leave the hospital. They wanted to be sure he wasn't a threat to himself or anyone else. The psychologist finally okayed his leaving, saying that, while angry, he was not a threat. Whatever. Daryl didn't care what some shrink in a suit said as long as got the hell out of the hospital.

Now, he needed to find a way to Beth. He couldn't rightly drive with a full cast on his left leg. He could operate the vehicle fine, but he doubted there'd be room for his leg to sit straight out under the steering wheel. Besides, his truck was totaled in the accident. Maybe he'd get Merle or Aaron to take him? Though, he really wasn't up for what Merle would have to say about him chasing after a woman.

That left Aaron, and he really didn't want to give him the idea he'd been right in his assessment of his recent mopiness being about Beth. But what choice did he have?

Of course he could call her...but this seemed like something that needed to be done face to face. He hadn't asked for forgiveness much in his life, something told him it needed to be done in person.

By the time they discharged him, he was itching to leave. More so than he had been before, he _needed_ to get to Beth. Merle had thankfully brought him clean clothes the day before, he showered as best he could and he was perched on his bed when Aaron finally made it to retrieve him from the hospital later that afternoon.

"Well, you're almost half way decent looking," Aaron teased.

"Thanks. Now can we go?" He asked, scooting off his bed, making use of a single crutch the nurses supplied him with when he absolutely refused another walker.

"Ready to go home?" Aaron asked needlessly. It was obvious he was.

"We ain't goin' home," Daryl told him, meeting him at the door.

"Oh? Where are we going?"

"Beth's."

Aaron's smirk grew into a smile showing off his straight white teeth as he slapped Daryl on his good shoulder and said, "Really, now?"

"Dontcha' think I've wasted enough time?"

"And then some. Let's go," Aaron motioned for him to lead the way into the hall.

* * *

 

**Sidenote: Yes, kind of predictable for one of my stories. But I just can't help myself. I love Bethyl babies. ;)**


	22. Kairos

**As promised, the next chapter. I was listening to Mumford and Sons (Hi ivyandocean!) Wilder, specifically the song Believe and I added some of the lyrics.**

**I was going to split this one up into two but then I figured you all would kill me, so I hope you all like it. Thanks for reading and all the great comments. ;)**

* * *

_**Kairos** : (N.) The perfect, delicate crucial, moment. The fleeting rightness of time that creates the opportune atmosphere for actions, words and movement._

_. . ._

Beth had made it through her shift with relative ease, her nausea having abated. The restaurant was busy so she didn't have a lot of time to think about the baby or Daryl, though neither were very far from her mind. Maggie had stopped her on her way in from work, forcing her to eat. Beth sighed as she sat at the table and Maggie shoved a heaping plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes and gravy in front of her. She obliged Maggie, because she knew her heart was in the right place, and morning sickness aside, she was somehow starving. Again.

As she ate, she and Maggie talked about this and that. Nothing too serious and they rounded the subject of the baby and Daryl for now. It was what Beth needed. Food and conversation.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Maggie said, sliding out from the bench, going to the counter, she took out a picture in an old recipe book.

"When I was looking for Mama's meatloaf recipe today, in one of her old cookbooks there was this." Maggie waved a photograph that was many years old in the air. "I had no idea it was in there. As many times I've used that recipe I've never seen it in there before."

Beth wiped her hands on a paper napkin and took the old photograph Maggie handed to her over the table. It was yellowing and frayed at the rounded edges. Beth's eyes widened with surprise.

"Its Mama!" She said excitedly.

"Yep, sure is. I've never seen that one before."

"Me either," Beth said. In the photo, their mother was young and happy, standing at the side showing off her own baby bump. Beth felt inexplicably like crying, her nose itching, throat aching. Was this the pregnancy hormones everyone talked about?

"She's pregnant with you. You can see me there pouting in the background."

Sure enough, there was Maggie about six years old sitting on the sofa with her arms crossed and her lips protruding in a spectacular pout.

"She looks so happy."

"She was, and I was so pissed she was pregnant with a girl. I thought you were going to take my place. When I first saw you, though, I knew that wasn't true. You were the perfect addition to our family. Just like your baby is going to be."

Too caught up with emotion to speak, she gave Maggie a watery smile.

. . .

Later, stuffed and on the verge of tears she had been holding back all day, she rested on ther bed with her hand low on her abdomen, wondering just how she had missed her rounding stomach. She supposed she had been so preoccupied with other things, that it somehow slipped her attention. Now in her leggings and an oversized t-shirt, it was very apparent to her. And she must've been blind to not notice the swell in her hips and the tenderness of her breast.

And what's next? She'd keep the baby, she knew this much. With out without Daryl she would raise the baby. She could do it, especially with Maggie and Glenn's help. The love she already felt for the baby astounded her. How could you love someone so much you haven't even met yet? But love that baby, she did.

Knowing she could raise the baby herself, didn't change the fact that she did not want to do it on her own. She realized just how much she wanted Daryl there with her. Wanted him there for the pregnancy, through doctor's appointments and ultrasounds. Through cravings and meltdowns. To be there when the baby is born and to, most importantly, help her raise him or her.

Reaching for the picture of her mother she propped up against the lamp on the nightstand, she peered at it again. Something began to click in her mind, like a word you couldn't quite remember and it was on the tip of your tongue. Sitting up, she glanced around the room. Still, quiet, the only sound was the muffled noise of television in the living room.

Suddenly, she sensed another presence sitting next to her on the bed, brushing her hair lightly with a translucent hand. Instead of being afraid, she stopped being afraid of this person long ago, Beth felt warmth. Love. And it clicked. She had known all along just who the spector was.

She wasn't like Beth remembered. She was young, very close to Beth's age. Her hair similar, her eyes very much like her own, she looked like she did in the picture. The kindness Beth felt radiating off her was the same.

"Mama?" She questioned.

"Yes, baby girl. It's me."

Tears that she had been holding in finally streamed down Beth's face. "Mama, I miss you so much."

"I know honey. But I'm always here," she said, placing a hand on her chest just above her heart, "always with you."

Beth leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. In that moment she was very solid, very real.

"You've got to go to him, Beth. He loves you. He deserves to be a daddy to 'em," she said, gesturing to Beth's belly.

"But what if he doesn't want me, Mama?" She asked, expressing her fear.

All along her mother had been with her. Leading her to Daryl. Making sure her daughter found love. It made sense that she would show herself to Beth at this precise moment of her life. At a time when she was utterly confused on what to do next.

"He does," her mother's voice sounded far off, but sure of what she spoke. "Beth I'm so proud of the woman you've become. So proud of both my girls. You're gonna' be a great mother."

"I'm scared."

"You have no reason to be. Now, go to him."

. . .

As always when something similar happened, Beth woke with a start. Without question, she immediately sat up and swung her legs around to the floor. Rushing through her room, only stopping long enough to grab her car keys and slide on her shoes. She flew open her bedroom door, jogging down the hall and through the living room where a perplexed looking Glenn and Maggie sat watching television.

"I gotta' go. I'll explain later."

Beth got as far as the back porch when she was stopped by a vehicle's headlights shining in the dark. The interior dome light shown inside the cab of the car and she recognized the driver as Aaron. Dread pounded in Beth's chest. What if Daryl had taken a turn for the worse? What if he got sicker, what if...

Then she saw Daryl hobbling out of the low Mustang, limping on a crutch. Making slow but determined progress towards her.

She walked down the steps, following the path. The sound of crunching rock under her feet and the quiet hum of the car's engine were the only sound in the winter's night air. She met him in front of the car, the headlights outlining their silhouettes.

"Daryl?" She asked in unbelief, partly afraid this was another one of her visions.

The first thing she did was take stock of his condition. He wore a sling still, his leg was casted all the way up. The bruising in his face had gone down considerably, though he still wore that scruffy beard.

"I went to your house. You weren't there." And though it was hard for him to admit, he confessed, "You had me scared. I thought you took off on me."

"No. I just had to leave for a while. How'd you know I was here?"

Daryl took a tentative step closer. "Just a hunch I guess."

"What are you doing here?" She finally asked.

Honestly, he'd climb mountains, run through walls just to get to her tonight. Instead he said, "It's a long story, got a minute?" That crooked smile pulling at the right side of his mouth.

She doubted she'd ever be able to say no to that half smile of his. "Yeah, sure," she said with ease, as though she hadn't just been racing to her car to go to him.

. . .

After Aaron left, and somewhat awkward introductions were made between Daryl and Maggie and Glenn, they retreated to her room. She insisted Daryl lay on the bed, adjusting the pillows behind him so he could sit up leaning against the headboard. She sat at the end of the bed, near his feet. She felt so overwhelmed with emotion, she was afraid if she spoke she'd cry again. So, she waited for Daryl to speak first and when he did his voice was gloriously horse with emotion, sending a quiver throughout her body.

"I'm so sorry Beth. I handled this all wrong."

Looking down at her hands, she spoke in a hushed whisper, "I share some of the blame, too."

"No, as far as I am concerned it's all me. I shouldn't have took off like I did. And I definitely shouldn't have kicked you out of my hospital room."

Beth looked up sharply, then just as quickly back at her intertwined fingers in her lap. That worried her. He was coherent enough to remember it then? Had he actually meant to kick her out of his room?

"I thought I was just dreaming, but when I realized I wasn't and I realized what I said to you," he looked down, shaking his head in disbelief. "Beth, I don't know how you can forgive me for the way I treated you..." He paused a moment, then said "Damn it. Please look at me."

Tentatively she did, and she saw agonized pain in his eyes. It made her hurt all over.

"Bottom line is I screwed up. And I don't blame you if you don't want to be with me anymore." Here he leaned forward, reaching for her hand which, thankfully, she allowed him to take. "This whole time, you never left my mind. I thought time might help me forget you. Forget what we had. But bein' away from you? It's slowly driving me insane. I want to be with you and I promise to spend the rest of my life making up for these last couple of months."

It was Daryl's turn to look down at their hands, "And I love ya' Beth." Sighing, he spoke quietly. "I just needed to tell you that."

The seconds dragged on and he finally summed up enough courage to look up at her out of the tops of his eyes, trying to read what she was thinking.

When her eyes finally met his, they sparkled with tears. And she smiled. Big and beautifully. Taking that as a good sign, he pulled her to him, wrapping his good arm around her waist.

"I love you too, Daryl."

Slowly he placed his lips to hers and he felt complete. For the first time in months, he could breathe. This was what it was all about. He was somewhat shocked to find out life had meaning to it. Beth showed him he was actually alive. That his life had a purpose.

Tightening his grip, and slowly, carefully Beth straddled his lap. Angling her head to deepen the kiss, a deep moan escaped Daryl's throat. His hand traveled down to her hip, skirting the hem of her shirt, pressing his hand to the bare skin of her back.

Beth jumped back as though he'd pinched her. Instantly he froze.

"What? What's wrong?"

Though she was terrified how he'd react, now's as good a time as any to tell him before things got too far. It occurred to her that maybe she should wait. Tell him another time. But the longer she waited, the more difficult it'd be. She didn't want any more secrets between them. "I got somethin' I have to tell you. Apparently, it's a night for confessions."

His eyebrows furrowed in worry, gesturing with his chin for her to continue and seeing her reluctance, he palmed her cheek gently. "Come on. Out with it. This is never gonna' go our way if I'm gonna' have to guess what's on your mind.

Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she pulled it up over her head, baring her body to him. Skin glowing in the faint light of the nightstand lamp, her breast firm and nipples protruding against the sudden chill.

Needing to to touch her, Daryl brushed his fingers down her bare shoulder, down the side of her breast and down the side of her belly, where he paused. He cocked his head to the side, staring at her midsection, then his eyes went back to hers which were filled with tears again. The average person probably wouldn't notice it, but Daryl did.

"When you and Aaron pulled up, I was coming to find you. To tell you."

He scooted back against the pillows behind his back. "Tell me what?"

To his credit, he left his hand on her. He wasn't breaking contact. Yet.

Beth rounded the small bump of her belly with her hands. Deep breath, and... "I'm pregnant."

What she felt was hard to explain. She was scared, yes. She had never been pregnant before and a million questions bounced around in her brain. The next decisions she had to make were based solely on Daryl's reaction. Was she going to be raising this baby on her own? Or was he going to be a father to the baby. Daryl didn't seem like the type to turn his back on his child. At the same time, if he did decide to be a part of the baby's life, that didn't necessarily mean he would love her as well.

Beth tensed, waiting for a response.

"Pregnant?" Hes brow furring in concentration. "Pregnant." He said the word again as though he didn't understand the concept.

"Yes. Like, as in a baby," Beth explained further. She knew he was stunned, it was a lot to spring on someone.

"A baby? Holy fucking shit!"

Her nerves sang, she couldn't read his expression. He didn't sound exactly upset. Maybe just surprised?

"I don't expect anything from you, I just thought you needed to know." She slowly escaped his grasp, pulling up and away.

"Where the hell you think you're goin'?" He asked, snatching her by the wrist, pulling her back to him.

"I just thought..." she began. "I don't know what to think, Daryl. I want this baby so much. I want him with you. But not if you feel obligated. I want you to _want_ this."

Taking a second to think, the second dragging on to a minute, he eyed her belly again. She was so tiny, so slight, he wondered, vaguely, how she would carry a baby. He was suddenly bowled over with protectiveness for Beth. For Beth and the baby.

More sure than anything he had ever felt before, without a doubt, he wanted her and the baby. "I don't feel obligated. I want this baby. I want 'im with you."

"Really?" She asked a tentative smile crossing her lips.

"Hell yeah," he said with a bewildering smile. Then he ran his hand through his shaggy hair. "Holy shit. A baby? Really?"

The last couple months have been a whirlwind to say the least. He almost died twice. Gained Beth, lost Beth. And now they were going to have a baby.

"Yeah, a baby," she confirmed, optimistically.

Reaching out, he pulled her down to his lips. Between kisses, he said, "That's the best fuckin' news I've had in months. Hell forget months, my whole damn life."

Crashing together, white light surrounded them. He kissed her so hard, so fast, it took her breath away. Pulling his arm from his sling, both hands now free, he touched her everywhere. Fingers running through her hair, cupping her breast, tweaking her nipples to a hard solid point, forcing a gasp from her parted lips.

"Daryl, we've got so much we need to talk about," she said when he pulled away long enough to run kisses along the length of her neck.

Tracking his lips back up to her ear, he whispered, "We can talk later. We got the rest of our lives to talk. Right now, I just want you."

Pulling back, gasping for air that his kisses stole, she asked, "Are you sure? I mean, you're in a cast. You're gonna hurt yourself."

"I guess you're gonna' have to be on top," he smirked.

The way he looked at her made her melt and she wanted to give in to anything he requested. So, she climbed off his lap, standing next to the bed, she pulled off her leggings and underwear, standing before him naked as the day she came into the world. His gaze traveling the length of her body giving her a thrill, making her legs weak. No one had ever looked at her the way he did. No one had ever made her legs weak either, that was for sure.

Reaching over, she undid his sling, tossing it to the ground, then helped him out of his long sleeved t-shirt.

"Hows your arm feel," she asked. As much as she wanted him, she was determined to go slow, not wanting to cause him any pain.

He rounded the arm in a small circle. "Stiff, but okay. Doctor said I can stop wearing the sling next week. A little earlier ain't gonna' hurt none."

"That's a good thing. This might get kinda' tricky with one hand."

Slowly, she climbed back onto the bed, sitting next to him. Leaning over, she trailed wet kisses from his mouth, over to his ear, sucking on his earlobe, then trailed kissed down his neck, over his chest. Following the trail of hair down the center of his abs. He wore cotton gym pants that split up the side of his cast, held closed by snaps. All she had to do was pull down the elastic waste of the pants and boxers and his engorged erection sprung upward.

Situating herself in between his legs, she took the shaft in her palm and moved her hand up and down slowly. Daryl's eyes grew wide, his jaw bones jutting out as he ground his back teeth. She gave him one last mischievous grin before trailing her tongue from the tip of his cock, to the bottom of the shaft and back up again to the tip. Surprising even herself, she had never been interested in oral sex before, she took the head into her mouth, sucking ever so lightly.

Breaking eye contact with Beth, Daryl's eyes rolled back in his head, his neck arching backward into the pillows behind him, sounding out an unintelligible swear word. His right hand tangled in her hair, giving a slight tug.

Inside Beth's mouth she rounded the head of his cock with her tongue before taking in the rest of the shaft, then pulling back up again only to dive back down, taking him even further into her mouth.

He knew he needed to stop her or things would end quicker than he wanted. It'd be so easy to just let it go, allowing himself to become lost in the amazing things her mouth was doing to his body.

But...

"Beth," he moaned, pulling her from his cock, and up to his lips. "Good Lord women, I've almost died twice in the last few weeks, and this is what's gonna' kill me."

Beth blinked her eyes open. "Wait, what? Twice?"

"Shit, I'll explain it later," he said then quickly sealing her mouth shut with his own until she gave into him, succumbing to his kiss.

Holding the kiss, she straddled his waist again. Reaching between their bodies, she aimed his cock at her opening and as she backed up into a sitting position, she slid onto him.

Slow at first, allowing her body time to adjust to his size, she then began to move, squeezing her kegel muscles, holding tightly onto him.

"Damn woman, you feel so good," he grounded out between clenched teeth. Reaching up to her breast, he kneaded her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt his shoulder ache from disuse, but he was too preoccupied to care. He supported her breasts with his palms while he whisked the erect nipples with his thumbs.

Hot, wet, tight. Mind numbingly slow, she rode him. Her small breasts pushed together between her arms as her hands braced on his chest. Her hair flowed behind her shoulders, down her back in a sun-rayed cascade.

He flattened a hand over her slightly rounded belly, and peered up at her in wonder. They created something. The baby will be a little part of each of them. It blew his mind and his love for the baby swelled as well as his love for the baby's mother.

With that hand low on her belly, fingers pointed toward her breasts, he worked it downward until the heel of his hand was at the very lowest point of her body. He rubbed it back and forth slowly. The friction cause Beth's head to fall back, a low moan rose from deep within her. Warm sensations began to build up through her middle and radiate outward until her fingertips and toes began to throb and tingle with anticipation. She gripped his chest tighter, quickening the pace.

His ass rose and fell, meeting her body. With each plunge downward he plunged upward. His palm became damp with her moister and he shifted his thumb down into the source of the moisture. His calloused thumb rubbed against her clit and pleasure seared throughout her body. She whispered his name over and over again as her breathing quickened and grew harsher.

Her body took on a rhythm of its own as she sped up her pace. He pressed a tiny bit harder with his thumb and her body twitched to an abrupt stop before jerking back down and up on the shaft of his cock. The convulsions of her inner walls milking him, as her release tore through her body. And he could no longer hold back. He groaned, arched his back once more, burying himself deeply inside of her, he came harder and longer than he ever had before.


	23. Bethyl

**So much Bethyl fluff, you may explode. You've been warned. ;)**

* * *

_**Bethyl** : (Fandom) The love of two people; Beth and Daryl._

. . .

Ya' sure it's okay that we have sex?" Daryl asked Beth, a little too late, once his heartbeat had returned back to somewhat normal.

Laying intertwined on the small mattress in the spare bedroom. He was on his back and Beth was tucked into his side, her foot ran up and down his unbroken leg, her fingers making lazy circles in his chest hair. A light sheet covered their bodies.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be okay? It's not like we have to worry about getting _more_ pregnant." She snorted at her own joke.

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "I mean because you are pregnant. Is it, I don't know, safe?"

Beth tried, unsuccessfully, not to laugh. It was sweet that he was worried. "Yes. It's perfectly safe. And pretty amazing, if I do say so myself."

He relaxed marginally, pulling her closer. "Yes. I am amazing, thank you very much."

She elbowed him lightly in the side. "Don't get cocky, now."

All joking aside, he looked down at her, her head pillowed on his bicep, still in disbelief, he said, "I can't believe we're gonna have a kid. Just a few days ago I thought my life was over and I didn't really care if it was."

She leaned up on her elbow, now looking down at him, she asked, "What happened? How did you almost die? The second time."

He shrugged, "I don't know. I was tired. And I missed you so much. I just wanted to check out for a while. I drank too much, took some Oxy. Passed out."

Through the darkness, fear shone in her eyes. "Oh Daryl. That was really... "

"Stupid?"

"Well, I was going to say dangerous, but yeah, stupid too."

"Next thing I knew I woke up in the hospital again with the biggest regret of my life."

"I'd say so. Accidentally overdosing would be a huge regret," Beth didn't understand his blazie attitude to almost accidentally killing himself. She didn't even want to think about it.

"That's not what I regret. I'd regret leaving things the way they were between us. With me just taking off the way I did." He reached up and brushed her hair from her face. "I promise I'll never leave you again."

Leaning down, she lovingly kissed him. "Good. I might have to kill you if you do."

Chuckling, he pulled her down to him, lightly holding her in a bear hug. "You. The baby. You're my life now." After a moment of contemplation how one person can change your life completely, he said, "So, your turn. Why are you staying at Maggie's?"

Beth resumed her position. Her hand on his chest, her leg propped up on his thigh. Sighing, she filled him in on the episode of Atlanta Tonight, which he actually hadn't heard about, and how hard it was trying to help everyone she could and how it drained her mentally as well as physically. And why she had to leave her home and seek shelter at her sisters.

"Damn, I'm sorry you had to go through that alone."

"Nothing much we can do about that now, I guess," Beth said, blessedly letting him off the hook yet again.

"When you're ready, and if it's okay with you, we'll head back there. Together. Anyone that comes to our door will have to deal with me. And if I ever see that jackass Shane again, I'll kill 'em."

"Aw, don't do that. I mean you can hurt him a little, but don't kill him. I don't want my baby-daddy to be in jail," Beth joked, trying her best to lighten the mood. She was exceedingly happy to have Daryl there with her, she didn't want to dampen the mood.

"Do you want to go back home?"

Beth thought for a moment. A big part of her wanted to return to her little house down the dead end dirt road, another part of her liked where she was. The solidity of being at Maggie's gave her comfort. What did she want to do? She wanted Daryl in her life. Every day, but she also liked it here.

"I'm not sure what I want to do. I like it here. It's safe with Maggie. Not that I wouldn't feel safe with you. And I got this job working at Glenn's restaurant..."

"It's okay. I get it. When you are ready to go back, I'll be there. If that's fine with you," he added hesitantly. Knowing pushing her was the best way to push her away. So, he'd wait her out.

"Of course, it's fine," she said with such casualty as though the alternate never occurred to her.

He relaxed marginally. After a moment of silence, she told him she wasn't going to continue her business.

"You sure?" Daryl asked, sounding worried. "I thought you loved it."

"I do, but it's just too draining on me now. I'm not saying one day I won't pick it up again, but right now... I just can't. I have to focus on me, and us and the baby." Her hand drifted protectively over the slight round of her belly.

. . .

They fell asleep like that, wound around each other on Maggie's small spare bed. It was a wonderful feeling, and for the first time since the accident Daryl didn't wake up in excruciating pain. It was true, he supposed, what people said; psychological turmoil can cause physical pain.

It took him all of two seconds to realize Beth wasn't there. Her pillow and the sheet were warm, though, so she couldn't of gone too far. Then he heard the distinct sounds of someone puking their guts up. He guessed the bathroom shared a wall with the bathroom.

Almost ignoring it, as he often did when it happened at his home. Merle being Merle, it occurred quite often. Then he remembered Beth and didn't women sometimes get sick when they were pregnant? Whatever the reason, he was up and out of bed as fast as his hobbled leg would allow. Throwing on his shirt, wincing in pain from his shoulder, he shuffled down the hall and through the crack in the door, he saw Beth's blonde hair in sweep down her back.

Knocking lightly, he entered just as she flushed the toilet and practically collapsed to the floor. She was shaking and sweaty. Her fair skin, pale. Unable to kneel down with her, he lowered himself onto the ledge of the tub, his casted leg jutting out at an angle in front of him. She automatically crawled to him, leaning her head on his thigh of his uncasted leg. Lightly he brushed her hair off the side of her face, off her neck where it stuck with dampness.

He leaned down at the waist and placed light kisses to her temple.

"Ugh, don't. I stink," Beth whined, trying half-heartedly to move away. Falling short, laying her head back down. "Having you here, it makes this somehow easier," she told him.

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with it alone up till now."

"Quit apologizing. You were in the hospital either way." Lifting her head, she peered up at him, "You're here now. That's all that matters."

After a moment, she lifted her head again. "I got somethin' to tell you," she whispered.

He didn't know if her hushed tone was due to the earliness of the day, or something deeper, but he didn't know if he could take any more surprises.

Wearily, he asked, "What's that?"

"Remember when we met at that carnival?"

He nodded his affirmation, trailing his finger back and forth over the bones of her wrist that rested on his leg, wondering why she was bringing this up now of all times.

"Remember how I knew your name?"

"Well, yeah, that's why I tracked you down. Or, at the time I thought that was why I tracked you down. Really, I just wanted to see you again."

She smiled knowingly, "I know. But, the only reason I knew your name..." a small grin parted her lips, her sleepy eyes brightening, "is because it was written on your work shirt."

Well. He wasn't expecting that. Bewildered, he asked, "What the hell?"

Thinking back it made sense. His work shirts _did_ say his name on the left breast pocket. A wide smile beamed at Beth. "You tricked me!"

Smiling back, she nodded. "I really wanted to see you again," she laughed. "I was hoping maybe you'd contact me."

It was so good to see her smile, to hear her laugh. The color in her cheeks was returning and she looked happy even though she had just puked last night's dinner up.

"Oh, you're gonna' get it, girl," he threatened playfully, stabbing her in the ribs with an index finger making her jump and shrink back, but not before he jabbed another finger in her ribs. "You ticklish? Are ya'?"

Swiftly he grabbed her back by the wrist, and attacked her ribs with his fingers. She wiggled against him, trying to get away in the tiny bathroom, but it was no use. He had a hold on her and was determined to torture her via tickling.

Finally, he figured she'd had enough when she was laughing so hard, tears were coming from her eyes, he pulled her up to him and wrapped his arms around her.

Slightly out of breath, he said, "Well, I'm glad you did trick me. I can't imagine my life without you. Well, actually I can," as he had lived that reality the last couple of months, "and it's not a life. Not a complete one anyway."

"It was meant to be. The two of us."

He nodded in agreement.

"Daryl?" She questioned.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Let's go home."

. . .

And so they did. With Beth commuting back and forth to cover her shift at the Pizzeria until Glenn found her replacement. Though neither talked about it more, Daryl moved in with her, and together, they tried to forge a new life. Quickly learning and adapting to each other's idiosyncrasies.

For instance, Beth didn't sleep well, and slunk quietly from the bedroom. Sometimes Daryl found her asleep on the sofa in the morning, sometimes he found her rocking in an old rocking chair in the room that was to become the baby's. Beth learned that Daryl was not a morning person, but liked cooking breakfast for the two of them. He was kind enough to wait for her morning sickness to fizzle out for the day before cooking it.

Daryl hated, absolutely hated, being reliant on anyone, even Beth, but he was unable to drive just yet, and still had numerous doctors appointments as well as physical therapy to get back and forth to. She promised she didn't mind, saying she took it as a compliment he trusted her to care for him.

Beth had her own doctor's appointment to go to as well, and Daryl wasn't going to miss that for anything. So, here they sat in the waiting room of yet another doctor's office. This one, though, was much more cheery with bright yellow walls and cartoonish prints of animals framed on the walls. A huge corner of the room was designated as a play area for children. In spite of himself, the atmosphere put him in a better mood, put him more at ease. For some reason he didn't understand he was nervous. He'd never been to an OBGYN, he had no idea what to expect. Even though, Beth filled him in a little, this whole thing was new to him.

After what felt like hours, a nurse in a blue uniform called them into the back where they took Beth's measurements and vital signs - all looked great, and discussed any questions she had - none, except for the morning sickness, totally normal, and left them to wait for the doctor.

"What do you know about this guy?" Daryl asked, uncomfortable with some stranger poking around Beth.

"He's been my doctor for a while, Maggie's too. He delivered baby Hershel. A little awkward. But he knows his stuff."

Before Daryl could offer up a response, there was a quiet knock on the door and entered a portly man, sporting a, was that a...? Yes, it was a mullet. He talked with a flat monotonous staccato.

"I'm Doctor Porter. Eugene Porter, Beth's doctor," he explained unnecessarily.

He quickly shook Daryl's hand, and turning to Beth, a little warmer, he shook her hand a few beats longer. "How are you feeling, Ms. Greene?"

"Okay," she began, then went into her morning sickness.

He explained as long as she was still able to eat, and was gaining weight, it should decrease soon since she was almost in her second trimester, whatever the hell that meant. After measuring her stomach, just as the nurse did, and calculating her missed periods, she was judged to be about twelve weeks pregnant.

The doctor pointed to a poster that hung on the wall showing what a fetus looked like each month. Daryl was surprised to see it looked like a human. He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't this. His heartbeat began to pick up speed.

Then the Dr. Porter took out a wand looking instrument hooked to a box with a coil.

"What's that?" He asked gruffly.

"It's a fetal doppler," Beth filled in.

Somehow Beth seemed to understand what this contraption is and leaned back on the table. The doctor put the wand end on Beth's bare belly and after a second of moving it around, a sound filled the room; the strong beat-beat-beat of a drum. Here, the doctor looked from Beth to Daryl, not exactly smiling, but not unhappy either.

"That would be your baby's heart beat."

"No shit?" Daryl asked, standing near Beth's head at the side of the examination table, reaching down and took her hand in his and when she looked up to him, she looked so happy.

He then moved the wand down and to the right, frowning only a split second, but it did not get past Daryl. Immediately he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Dr. Porter didn't answer right away, only kept moving the wand over Beth's lower stomach.

By then, Beth was becoming alarmed. "Doctor?" She questioned.

"Have you had your labs drawn yet?"

"Just today," Beth said bashfully, having put it off it off because she didn't like needles.

"Hmm... I guess we could do a quick ultrasound."

Daryl's nervousness was beginning to team with annoyance. "What the hell's goin' on?" Daryl demanded.

To the doctors credit, he didn't back down from Daryl. "Its nothing to be alarmed about, that is unless twins alarm you."


	24. Opia

**Thanks for reading. :) More Bethyl fluff. Next chapter, I'm not thinking there is going to be much fluff, so soak it up while you can.**

* * *

_**Opia** : (N.) The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable._

_. . ._

On the blurry black and and white screen of the ultrasound machine, there were two babies. Twins. Daryl was blown away. Not one, but two. He was dumbfounded, not knowing what to say or what to ask. Luckily, Beth seemed to know exactly what to say and ask, so he just stood close by holding Beth's hand - because that seemed like the right thing to do, and watched, listening to what everyone else had to say.

One thing did get through to him, though. Everything, everyone, looked great. And that was all he really needed to know.

On the way home, Beth was quiet, holding the ultrasound picture in her hands in her lap. Staring at it. Finally, he couldn't stand the silence any longer.

He asked, "Watcha' thinkin'?"

She rolled her shoulders and sniffled. He knew she was holding back her tears by the way her cheeks pinkened and her eyebrow creased.

Reaching over, he lightly palmed her cheek with his hand. "What is it?"

"I just can't believe there are two babies in there," she said, her hand rubbing over her lower abdomen. "I'm kinda' a small person, how will I grow them?"

Holding back a chuckle, he reassured, "You will, don't worry." His words felt useless. He never knew the right thing to say.

"Do you see how they are in one amniotic sac?" She questioned, pointing to the picture.

He had no idea what she was talking about, he saw nothing but lines and static, but he nodded anyway. He didn't want her to think he was a bad father for it. Which was silly, yet he couldn't shake that feeling.

She laughed, the sound sending relief through him. "You don't know what that means do you?"

He laughed too. "Nope, sure don't."

She went through a basic explanation of how babies grew in a liquid filled sac. "Sometimes twins will have their own sac's. These babies," she said, pointing to the picture. "Share one. That means they will be identical."

"Identical twins? That means they'll look alike, right?"

"Yep."

"Well," as they were at a stop light, he turned his full attention to her, "I hope they look exactly like you."

. . .

Beth fretted, but Daryl had learned that was perfectly normal, and only tried to reassure her whenever she voiced any fears she may have. He had his own fears, keeping them mostly to himself, working through them on his own. He wanted to appear to have it together for Beth. It was working, and by reassuring Beth, his fears became less.

Daryl felt like new man when his full leg cast was removed and he had almost full function of his knee. His shoulder only bothered him in the mornings when it was stiff from misuse. His ribs had healed completely as well as his right leg. And even though physical therapy was going maddeningly slow, he felt like he was on his way to a full recovery. The doctor said he'd probably never regain full mobility in his shoulder and would always have a limp, but he didn't mind. What's a limp in the grand scheme of things.

He was alive. That was the point. Beth was happy and growing bigger everyday now that her morning sickness had abated. Unable to work at Glenn's restaurant any longer, she found a few kids to tutor in reading. Daryl was able to get a few hours a week in at the mill. That, along with his temporary disability, they were able to keep things afloat. He was sure he'd be back full time by the time the babies were born.

They had even began to fix up the spare bedroom for the babies. Though word had it, babies didn't spend much time sleeping in their own room, still he sat on the floor in the nursery assembling a massive crib. Because Beth asked him to. He was almost sure he'd jump off the highest ocean cliff if she asked him to. This was after adding a fresh coat of warm taupe colored paint to the walls the week before.

"What about Brooke?" Beth questioned from where she sat on the rocking chair in the corner. A thick book of 1,001 baby names lay open in her lap.

"You wanna name our kid after a creek?"

Beth snorted out a laugh. "No. Brooke. With an 'e'."

"Oh, well then," he sassed.

"Aw, come on. It's a pretty name."

"I don't know," He said, tightening a screw into a bracket. "'Sides, I thought you said they were boys."

"They are," she spoke with confidence.

He didn't question how she knew, she just did and that was all he needed to know.

"Well then, Brook with an 'e' is out."

"It could be a boys name too," she reminded him.

"What 'bout Brock?" Daryl asked.

Beth simply stated a "No" for an answer. Not bothering to look up from the book.

"Brooke and Brock," she suggested with a laugh.

Daryl sent her an incredulous over his shoulder.

"William?" She asked.

"That was my daddy's name. So, no."

"But it's also your middle name," she reminded him.

Before he had a chance to reply, the bracket he was screwing into place slid out, pinching his finger. Swearing loudly, he dropped it to the ground, bringing his finger to his lips.

"Damn thing. Need a friggin' degree in engineering to put it together."

"Let me see," Beth said, easing from the chair. Placing the book on the ground resolved to the idea of maybe having to call the babies 'thing one' and 'thing two' since they weren't any closer to actually agreeing on a name.

She took his hand in hers, examining the reddened finger. "I think you'll live," she cooed. Bringing the injured finger to her lips, placing a wet kiss to the raised skin.

Instantaneously, Daryl went hard. It was never a question with him and Beth. He always wanted her. And since she regained her energy, and then some, she was always game. He watched as her mouth, wrapped around his finger, sucked lightly, her eyes grew darker with lust.

"Why don't you take a break?" She asked, pulling him from the room, and into theirs without waiting on an answer, knowing she didn't have to wait for an answer.

As soon as they were in their bed room, she wasted no time in flipping her t-shirt up over her head, dropping it to the floor. In her progressing pregnancy, clothes irritated her, so the less she wore the better she felt. While at home her attire consisted of a longer t-shirt and underwear, and not much else. Daryl, of course, loved having her skin so visible and accessible.

He was careful to wait for her initiation, for her okay, though the times he couldn't wait on her initiation, she didn't seem to mind any. She seemed as interested in sex as him, if not moreso. As long as she offered, he'd never, _never_ , turn her away.

He covered the ground between them and wound his arms around her, cupping around her ever growing belly. Her back to his front, she pushed her butt against his middle, feeling his growing cock underneath his jeans.

Hands drifting upward, lightly dragging his short fingernails over her skin up to her breasts, tender and swollen. They fit in his palms perfectly. She reaching up behind her, grasping his shaggy hair, tugging him down to her upturned mouth. He covered her mouth, sucking in her tongue.

Briefly breaking the kiss to face him, she resumed the kiss as his hands went to her ass. Cupping her he lifted her, her legs instinctively grasping his hips.

Letting out a squeal, she warned, "Daryl, you're gonna' hurt yourself."

Enjoying every second of it in spite her warning, his forearms, strong and solid under her ass, carried her to the bed.

"Ain't nothing," he ground out between kisses. "You're light as a feather."

"Uh huh, and you're a liar," she teased as he lightly dropped her onto the edge of the bed.

She sprawled out on her back, allowing him a full view of her ever changing body, knowing he loved it. Though, in the back of her mind she wondered how on earth he did. She felt bloated and big.

Leaning in, he trailed a finger from her reddened and kiss-swollen lips, down her chin, following a direct line down to her underwear, feeling through the cotton for that special spot that made her eyes roll back in her head. Bending at the waist, Daryl found her pert nipple already peaked and waiting for him. He sucked firmly, used his teeth until she was arching underneath him, panting his name. Her fingers tangling his already mussed hair.

Having to have him right now, as always, she reached down between them and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down as far as she could. Without missing a beat, only switching nipples, he shoved the jeans down the rest of the way with his free hand. With some finagling, he was able to rid himself of them without falling.

Raising again, judging by how quickly Beth's hips were moving against his fingers, he hooked the sides of her underwear and pulled them down her legs, placing affectionate kisses to her belly, and back up to her nipples again. Then kissing her briefly on the mouth, he stood again to look over her.

And he did thoroughly look her over.

"You're beautiful," he mumbled, wondering why he couldn't never just outright say it in a normal voice. Beth didn't seem to mind, accepting it for what it was, smiling up to him, using her legs she pulled him closer into the V of her body.

"And I love you, more than anyone."

Breathless, she answered, "I love you too."

Impatiences was getting the better of her and she pushed back, forcing him to take a step behind him.

"But I need you inside of me." She whined in the best possible way.

She spun around, her back to his front again, pressing her ass hard against his erect cock. Cupping her breasts again, he allowed her to reach behind him, and guide him, pulsing and hard, into her.

He moaned, feeling her tight wetness surround him. He wanted to take it slow, he really did, this woman's body threatened to drive him mad. Grasping her hip, he pushed himself further up and into her as she braced her hands on the mattress.

The other side of him wanted to blow his load right then and there, but knew he couldn't. What she told him the first time they'd been together, that no man had ever taken the time to make sex good for her, would forever be ingrained into his memory and he was determined to never let that happen with them. He wanted to get her off first. His hand rounded her hip and found her clit with his calloused index and middle finger, and began rubbing small circles, causing a mini spasm to shoot through her body.

Beth gasped, dropping her head down between her shoulders. While pounding into her from behind, and making agonizing friction with his two fingers, with his free hand he grasped the hair on the back of her head. She liked it a little rough, and _fuck_ , did he like that. He pulled her head back with her hair, forcing a moan from her arched throat.

"Oh, Daryl," she panted.

He was turned on, of course he was, he was buried in the woman he loved, the woman carrying his children, but he was moreso turned on because _she_ was turned on.

He ground his jaw tightly, speaking through clenched teeth, he asked, "Does it feel good?"

She picked up the pace, her ass slapping back against him. She moaned, "Yes, please don't stop."

Just to tease her, maybe torment her in a good way, he slowed the circling of his fingers on her swollen clit, barely brushing it as her body came forward.

"No," she begged.

He smiled wickedly, dropping his hand from her hair and clasping her hip, slowing her down. Pulling out almost completely.

"Daryl. Don't stop."

"What do ya want, baby?"

"You," she answered, her voice high pitched, breathless.

"But, what do you want," he asked for clarification, as though he didn't really know.

"I want..." she stalled when he picked up the pace again with his fingers, "I wanna' come. I want you to make me come."

"Well, all you had to do was say so," he teased.

Picking up pace again, not holding back at all. Applying full pressure with his fingers, pulling out entirely before diving deep into her again. Anticipation building, every nerve ending on edge, he felt her begin to tighten around him, until she let out a quiet squeal, and collapsed down the bed.

He felt incapable of doing so, but he stalled his movements momentarily and allowed himself to be pushed out by her body's inner convulsions. Spinning her around, she lay on her back once again. Her face blushed, damp with perspiration, hair a beautiful tangle of tendrils surrounding her head. Her breasts were swollen with lust.

Her ass lined up with the edge of the mattress, and the bed was perfect height to his middle, he slid his cock back into her slowly. Eyes still closed, breathing beginning to level out, she bestowed complete trust on him, offering her body to him. His moves began to quicken. In and out, until what felt like hours, when actuality was minutes, and he could no longer hold back.

"Open your eyes," he all but demanded.

Of course, she obliged. And the second her eyes locked with his, he came, groaning out her name.

. . .

Even though it was the middle of the day, they lay intertwined together in the blankets of the bed. Daryl's arms wrapped tightly around Beth. Beth's eyes were closed and her breathing was beginning to deepen. She took a nap most afternoons, and before she fell into sleep, he brushed a kiss over her ear.

"Beth," he whispered.

"Hmm?" She asked sleepily.

"You can name the babies whatever you want."

"What?" She asked, rubbing her eye with the palm of her hand.

"I know you'll pick out a good name, or names," he corrected himself.

"No, I want your say on it too."

He recognized that stubborn tone when he heard it, there was no sense arguing. She had her mind made up.

"You're their father, and you will help name them."

"Okay, okay." He agreed. "Just not Brooke. With or without an 'e'."


	25. Solstice

**See notes at end of chapter. Thanks for reading. ;)**

* * *

_**Solstice** : (N) Both the end of one season and the beginning of another._

. . .

Six months. Beth could hardly believe it, she only had three more months of her pregnancy to go. That is if she made it full term, a lot of multiple pregnancies didn't. Dr. Porter assured her everything looked great and the babies were growing and looked healthy. Beth was growing as well. All belly; that's what everyone said anyhow. She felt about as big as a mac truck, however.

A recent ultrasound had confirmed what she already knew, she was having two boys. Baby A and Baby B. After much consideration, and though Daryl had said she should be the one to name the babies, they, together, decided on the names Jaxon and River. Daryl had joked about naming the baby creek as opposed to Brooke. Then he joked about naming the baby River. They both decided they actually liked that name and as time went on, it grew on them.

Her hormones seemed to take over her mind. One second she was overwhelmed with love for Daryl and the life they were building together, the next she was angry at him for breathing. He took it all in stride, usually making her laugh through her anger until she wasn't angry any longer. Still, she was a hormonal mess. Daryl talked her into purchasing a television and satellite, so anything and everything they watched made her cry. Commercial's about dog food, never mind the commercials that had babies in it, and forget it if the commercial or movie had dogs and babies.

On the days she didn't tutor, they revolved around food and napping. She couldn't believe how exhausted she was. Maggie had warned her it only gets worse once the baby, or in her case babies, came. Still, she couldn't wait to meet them. To hold them. To smell their little heads. Maggie had also said it'd be worth it.

Daryl was back to work part time, and tonight they were going to Aaron's and Eric's for dinner. Beth thought about canceling on them and just spending the Friday evening at home, curled up on the couch waiting for babies to move again. They had just started moving, little bumps and kicks here and there. It was an amazing sensation. Daryl, reluctant at first, now sat with his hand on her belly while they watched television waiting for the next kick.

But it'd be nice to get out. Put on actual clothes instead of yoga pants and one of Daryl's sweatshirts. Maggie had given her some of her maternity clothes and she decided on a light colored tunic and dark jeans that flared out at the ankle. She even took the time to do that beachy wave thing with her hair. Daryl probably wouldn't recognize her, she thought with a laugh.

Unplugging the curling iron, running her fingers through her hair that had thickened exponentially thanks to the pregnancy and prenatal vitamins, she exited the bathroom shutting off the light. Heading back to her bedroom to find a necklace to wear, there was a knock at the door. Instantly her nerves went on edge.

There had only been one or two instances since they returned to the cabin that someone had shown up wanting Beth to read for them. Or heal them. Beth wasn't sure which because Daryl had taken care of it quickly and efficiently. She had almost began to relax again, now the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end.

Soundlessly she made her way into the living room, staying clear of the door. The doors stained glass window blocked out most of what could been seen inside, but one still could glimpse shadows if they were looking in. Peaking through a slit in the curtin in one of the windows to the side of the door, she saw a figure. Dark jacket, dark jeans, dark boots. Dark hair tucked into a baseball cap. Something was familiar about the way he stood. The way he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand in frustration or impatience.

"Open up, Beth. I know you're in there."

Shane.

What is he doing there? They hadn't heard anything of him in months.

"You're Jeep's in the driveway, and Daryl's at work. I know you're in there, I saw the bathroom light just shut off."

Dread settled in the pit of Beth's stomach, like she swallowed a brick.

"I was wondering if you would do one of those reading things," he spoke through the door.

His voice held a certain edge to it. And there was no way she was opening the door to him. She was dumbfounded on what to do. Daryl was twenty minutes away at work. The police were notoriously slow. Shane could have her killed and dismembered by the time they arrived. She froze, feet stuck to the floor where she stood.

He obviously knew she was in there. There was no sense pretending she wasn't, that might just escalate whatever it was he was wanting to do.

"I...I..." she stuttered, hating the quiver in her voice. "I ain't opening the door, Shane. You need to leave."

"Aw, come on, Beth. Open up. I just want to talk."

"No. Go away Shane. Daryl will be home any minute." That was true enough, he was due home from work any time now. "And he won't be happy to find you here."

Shane scoffed through the door. "You think I'm scared of Daryl?"

"You should be," she retorted. "Now, leave."

"Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist."

She heard his footsteps retreating, from her angle at the window she saw him turn but could only assume he stepped off the deck. With shaky hands she retrieved her phone from her back pocket and began to dial Daryl to tell him... to tell him what? Shane left, right? What was there to tell? Still, she wanted to hear his voice.

She didn't get very far in dialing, when the door was kicked open. The stained glass shattering, spewing shards of glass into the air. Beth must of screamed, though her ears were deaf to any sound.

Frozen in fear, the phone slipping from her fingers, she stood with her feet glued to where she stood. Shane sneered at her and she knew then what the devil must look like.

Slowly he made his way to her, step by step, closing the space in between them.

"What do you want?" She managed to breath out, her small voice echoed in her ears.

"So, tell me, if you're so psychic, why didn't you know I was coming here? Why didn't you know I been watching you all damn day?"

"It don't work that way." Trying to explain anything to him was a waste of time, but if she kept him talking then maybe he'd keep his distance from her.

Finally her feet became unstuck and she began a slow, deliberate retreat to the kitchen where the back door was.

"Uh uh, sweetheart. You stay where you are," he told her, cocking his head to the left.

It was obvious he wasn't there for a reading; he had more malicious things in mind. "Why are you doing this?" She gasped out. Even then Beth knew that was a stupid question. He was inane, plain and simple.

"You need to be put in your place. No one can read minds, you fuckin' psyco."

It was the eerie calm of his voice that sent fresh fear through her body. Beth was unsure of his intentions, whether he wanted to kill her, rape her, or just hurt her, but she the hell didn't want to find out.

He closed the distance between them and Beth stood her ground, knowing if she tried to flee it would only make things worse. "Please don't do this. I'm pregnant."

As if for the first time he realized her round belly that jutted out between them. When his eyes drifted from her belly back up to her face, he sneered.

"Well, don't that beat all. You 'n Daryl gonna have little psycho physic kids?"

No, this was not happening!

Acting on instinct and nothing else, Beth reared her knee up and came in direct contact with Shane. He hollowed a deafening sound, cupping his balls, he dropped to the floor. Quicker than she moved in months, Beth reared her booted foot back and kicked him in his nose. Another unhuman like howl escaped his throat and she leapt over his heaped body and ran from the house to her Jeep.

Shaking so badly, she couldn't grasp the keys in the ignition. Fear coursing through her veins, tears impairing her vision, Daryl's truck rolled up behind her, parking in his usual spot. Seeing him only made her tears come faster.

He took one look at her through the truck's window, his face going from placid to confused to worried. Quickly he jumped out of the truck, and rounding the hood went to Beth.

Opening the door, he cupped her tear streaked face in his hands, "What is it? What's wrong? Is it the babies?"

Shaking her head, in sputtered stops and starts, she spoke, pointing to the house. "Shane, he... he's inside, he..."

"Son of a bitch! Did he hurt you?"

"I'm okay," she decided. Scared, yes. Pissed, yes. But she physically, she was fine.

Relife quickly washed over him, and then realization to what might of happened ran through his mind. He saw red and left her in the car, telling her to call the police. Or a herse.

. . .

Daryl found Shane curled up in the fetal position on the living room floor, whimpering. Oh, he'd give him something to whimper about.

Stomping to him, he picked him up by the front of his shirt. Daryl had the pleasure of seeing recognition flash on Shane's bloodied face and then the unmistakable look of fear. Judging from his condition, Beth must've inflicted the damage already done to his face, pride welled up with his gut. That's his girl.

Speaking through teeth clenched so tightly, pain shot through his jaw. "What the fuck are you thinkin' coming here?" He asked rhetorically. "To my house. Threatening my woman. Believe me, this will be the last mistake you'll ever make."

Blinded by rage, he didn't wait for an answer. Why would he? Instead he reared back his fist and began pounding an assault on Shane's face. Shane weakly shoved at Daryl's first, wiggling away falling to the ground with a thud.

Shane grasped Daryl by the ankles, forcing him to topple over onto the floor with him. Having gained an ounce of leverage, Shane jumped on top of Daryl and got in a good punch or two, but pain didn't register. Not feeling a thing, he quickly overpowered Shane and straddled his waist, pounding his fist into his face over and over again.

All he was capable of in that moment was anger, all he saw was red. No one ever threatens his woman, his children and lived to tell about it.

But then Beth was suddenly there, grasping his shoulder.

"Daryl," her voice was barely audible against the rush of blood ringing in his ears. "Daryl, stop!"

The angst of her voice finally did seep into his rage, and he released Shane, bloodied and unconscious, and slowly stood turning directly into Beth's arms. They held each other until the sound of sirens could be heard getting closer and closer.

. . .

They stayed home that evening. Aaron and Eric descended on their home with food, enough to feed a small army, and lightened the mood considerably. Beth felt immensely better by the time they left late into the night. Good friends, good food, the knowledge that Shane was locked away in a jail cell, could heal a whole madrid of problems.

Daryl, though - the situation with Shane still weighed heavily on him. They had made love that night, starting out fast and furious, ending achingly slow, Daryl not stopping until he had pleased Beth well more than once. Still, he was more quiet than normal and the next morning, he retreated to the woods for hours, wanting to be left alone. She easily allowed him that, but it was going on noon and he'd yet to come back. So, pulling on her shoes, she followed the trail that led out back behind her house.

The air was still, warm for early spring. Buds on the trees were just beginning to shed their outer shell and the world smelled fresh. Clean. A new begining.

She'd been walking about ten minutes, becoming annoyingly tired she stopped at her favorite spot; a circle of trees canopied by tall branches. A fallen tree in the middle was the perfect place to sit and think. She had just settled when a whistle sounded through the air. Not bird or animal, but Daryl.

He appeared seemingly out of nowhere without making so much as a crunch of leaves under foot. He joined her on the fallen tree, and she, as always, snuggled into his side.

"You okay?" She asked.

He nodded, though Beth could tell he wasn't. Not quite anyway. So she waited him out, knowing if she pressed he would only back off.

After an eternity, he grumbled. "I been thinking."

"Oh yeah? 'Bout what?"

"You, the babies."

"Want to be more specific?" She asked, elbowing him lightly, smiling up to him. He reciprocated the smile, unable to help himself when she looked at him, like he was more than he felt he was.

Beth filled the silence that followed, "I felt so helpless when Shane kicked in the door..."

"You're not," Daryl interrupted, cutting her off. "You're not helpless, not at all. You handled it. You got away and managed to do a hella' lot of damageto him in the process."

Yes, she supposed he was correct.

"I think I woulda' killed him," he admitted.

Beth snuggled into his side, his arm lay protectively around her shoulders. "Don't say that..."

"No. I would've. I was so scared," he admitted. "Never been so scared in all my life."

Beth knew that wasn't easy for him to admit, if he'd even ever admitted it before. "It all worked out, we are here and safe now," she reassured.

"I felt so protective over you, over the babies. Just the thought of him hurting y'all. Yeah, I woulda' killed him," he repeated, his voice raw with emotion. "It makes me wonder, ya' know, how my mom left me with the fuck up that was my father. I mean he wasn't just an asshole. He'd beat the hell outta' me just 'cause the breeze bothered him. How the hell did she leave me with that? Why didn't she protect me?"

Beth thought a moment, wound her hand around his forearm, "I don't think she had a choice."

They'd stayed clear of this topic since the accident, figuring it was safest not to talk about it. Only now that Daryl brought it up did she dare broach the subject. It was his story. His life. It was his decision to talk about it or not.

"I don't think your daddy gave her choice, especially after she tried to leave with you."

Daryl shot her a look Beth couldn't exactly read, it wasn't a look of anger per se. It was a mix of emotions all tangled up wound tightly together.

Ultimately, and though he didn't want to admit it, he knew the right thing to do, and that right thing terrified him. All these years of indirect rejection had hurt him deeply. In order to move on, he had to close that chapter.

"I think I need to find my mother." Daryl pulled off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair. "Shit. But what if I go to her, what if..."

Beth hadn't ever seen Daryl so uncertain. "You know, I never told you what the third card was."

Confused, his brows furrowed as he looked down to her. "Huh?"

"Remember? You drew three tarot cards at the carnival?"

"Oh, yeah? I guess." He was having trouble following the new line of conversation

"The first one was the Three of Swords, the second was..."

"The Moon," he filled in for her.

"Yes," she smiled at him, happy that he remembered. "For the third card, you chose the eighth Major Arcana card."

Daryl thought back, trying to remember. The card had a picture of a woman, a blonde woman, calm and sure, petting a lion. The woman having tamed the wild beast.

"It means strength."

He caught on, knowing exactly where she was going with this. The wind picked up just then, throwing up debris and old dried leaves leftover from the winter into the air, surrounding them in a little cyclone.

"Your strength or mine?" He wondered, placing a kiss to her forehead.

. . .

Daryl opted not to call ahead, not sure what he'd say anyway, afraid he'd chicken out. He missed the arrogant bravery he'd had only a few short months ago. Now he was vulnerable, and fear was something he felt often. Beth insisted there was nothing wrong with that. She insisted feeling things was good , it meant he cared. He was still skeptical.

But, together they drove to the town where Melody Dixon Marquand lived. Using the GPS on Beth's phone they located the house, a small single story house with peeling paint and black shutters, one that was hanging at an angle. It was four in the afternoon, who knew if she worked and if she was home or not, but a rusted out Ford Escort sat in the drive.

Daryl pulled his truck along the opposite curb, killing the engine. He peered out the window, starting silently at the house, bringing a well worn thumbnail up to his mouth. His face being in the opposite direction as Beth, she couldn't make out his expression. His hat, low on his head and sunglasses shielded his eyes.

Scooting across the bench seat, she touched his thigh. "You okay?"

Without looking at her, he sounded out a noncommittal grunt.

"You want me to wait in here? Or we can come back another time if you want..." Though she didn't think that was a great idea either.

"Na', we've come this far."

"Alright then, let's go. I'm gettin' hungry." Beth joked, slapping him lightly on the knee.

Turning towards her he grinned. "I ever tell you you're a pain in the ass?" He joke affectionately.

"Yep. And you love it." Lifting her face to his, she kissed him gently. "And I love you."

"Love you too," he told her before opening the driver's side door and unfolding his legs onto the pavement below. Beth scooted over to the door, and he grasped her hand, helping her down. If he wasn't mistaking, her belly grew overnight. If it were possible, pregnancy made her even more beautiful than before.

Holding tight to her hand, his own warm and dry, they walked up to the cracked cement stoop. Before they made it up the steps a thin women opened the door, peering through the screen. As they got closer, Beth felt the woman holding her breath as she rose a hand against the screen.

When they made it to the top of the tiny porch, the woman opened the screen door, tears shone in her eyes, and she let out that breath she'd been holding, her voice shaking as she spoke.

"Daryl." Not a question, no uncertainty.

He nodded his head, his throat suddenly slamming shut, unable to speak.

Beth felt lightheaded. She felt Daryl's agonizing uncertainty, the woman's sadness, Daryl's trepidation, the woman's confusion.

Without speaking, the woman held open the door to them and when they passed the threshold, there was a small smile playing across her lips. She led them into a small stuffy living room with walls the color of dirty yellow. The only sight of any happiness was the house plants the completely covered the front window, their leaves and vines almost blocking out all the natural light.

"Have a seat," she suggested pointing to the couch that sagged in the middle. Beth took the couch, sitting on the edge, afraid that once she sat back, she wouldn't be able to get back up. Daryl chose the upright wingback chair with faded floral upholstery next to the couch. Beth instinctively covered his hand that covered her knee.

The woman looked like she did in Beth's vision but, time hadn't been kind. Her hair, while still long, was scraggly with mousy grey streaks running through it. Her eyes, once brilliant blue matching Daryl's, were dull. Lifeless. Her skin was creased and dried, as though if she touched it it might crumble under her fingertips.

Her voice was more husky than Beth expected as she cleared her throat and finally spoke. "I never thought... I mean," she stuttered. "I cain't believe you're here. With your wife?" Melody's line of vision went to Beth, dropping to her round belly.

"She's not my wife, not yet," Daryl spoke for the first time.

They hadn't talked of marriage, this was the first inclination that he wanted to marry at all. Beth was happy with the way things were right then. The present was so fine, why mess things up with talk of the future. But the future was barreling at them at the speed of light. Soon the babies would be born and she realized right then that, yes, she did want to be married. That was a conversation they would need to have, and soon.

"Listen, I'm sorry we didn't call first," Daryl began.

"Oh, that's fine," she shooed his apology away with the sweep of a hand. After another lull, the silence deafening save for a coo-coo clock that ticked on the faded yellow wall. Turning back to Beth, Melody nodded her head to her belly. "How far along are ya'?"

Beth was uncomfortable with the attention on her. She wasn't what this was about. She understood, though, it was easier for Melody to focus on Beth, an impartial third party.

"Bout six months," Beth's hands rounded her belly.

"Huh, boy or girl?"

Daryl interrupted before Beth had a chance to answer. "I'm sorry, but excuse me for not wanting to chit chat."

Melody actually smiled a thin lipped smile. Leaning forward, she crossed her thin arms around her thin waist and waited for Daryl to say what it was he came to say. She nodded, very familiarly, for him to continue, resolved to take whatever it was he wanted to dish out.

"Why?" Daryl asked, his voice so hoarse with emotion that it made Beth's heart ache for him. "How the hell could you just leave me with him?" Daryl asked, suddenly so angry his voice shook.

"I've played this moment over and over in my head. I weighed the pros and cons of telling you what really happened. Does it really matter now? Bottom line, I left you. I shouldn't have. Does it matter that he threatened to kill me? Which, hell, I'd be fine with if it meant you were safe. But then, he threatened to kill you if I didn't go. Leave you there with him. He woulda' done it too. Bottom line," she repeated, "I shouldn't have left you. "

"What the fuck?" Daryl asked more to himself than either Melody or Beth. He knew his father was a horrible, horrible man, but this? It just kept getting worse.

"So, I left." Simple words that carried such pain, tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "I watched ya' from a distance though, got updates through my sister. Seems like you grew up to be a respectable man."

Daryl looked as though he'd been punched in the gut, and Beth could no longer hold back her own tears. Silently they fell from her eyes onto Daryl's hand that still covered her knee.

"I don't know what to say to that," he responded honestly, his voice quivering.

"You don't haveta' say anything. I don't deserve a response. I deserve nothing." She spoke with such certainty, Beth almost believed her.

Melody rose from her chair then, and went to Daryl, standing in front of him, he refused to look up to her. Taking a chance she reached down, touched his shoulder lightly.

"If it's worth anything, please know that I am sorry. Sorry for leaving you with him. Sorry for not doing something, anything, more to get you outta there."

On the ride over Beth had filled Daryl in on the article she read that implied there had been a cover up, that the Sheriff at the time was in cahoots with his father. There was probably very little Melody could have actually done.

Daryl finally looked up at her, taking off his sunglasses for the first time.

"Sound's like you did what you felt you had to do." And who was he to judge her for that. He'd never been in her shoes, he had no idea what that must've been like for her.

Melody nodded her head, visibly grateful, she bent and wrapped her arms around Daryl's shoulders. At first he didn't respond. Didn't back away, but he didn't reciprocate either. Melody's body shook with hushed sobs, repeating over and over again. Her anguished words, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Beth saw the slightest movement of Daryl's hand that rested on her knee, then felt it lifting, leaving a hot spot through her jeans, he placed his arm around Melody's shoulders, his other arm joining soon after. Her legs giving out, Melody fell to the ground in front of Daryl and Daryl buried his face in the space between her hair and shoulder. Together they cried twenty five years worth of unshed tears, healing the gaping hole they each carried for just as long.

* * *

**Well, I think this is a good place to stop this fic. The reason I am ending it here is because once the babies are born, I feel it will start and new story in their lives. A new beginning. ;)**

**Daryl forgave his mother, got to beat the shit out of Shane. Came to terms with Beth's powers. Beth found a way to handle her powers and still live a normal life. Found someone that accepted her for who she is. Just seems like a good place to end it. We know they are having boys. Twins! And we know their names. We even got to find out what the third Tarot card was. :) So, thank you all so, so, so much who have read it and commented and stuck by through all the typos and sometimes iffy writing. lol**


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